


Of One Mind

by Lonov



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action, Humor, M/M, Mind Reading, Romance, Sassy! Isaac, oblivious! scott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:10:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonov/pseuds/Lonov
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes Scott wondered if Isaac still would have saved him, if he'd known that the punishment would be sharing thoughts. Minds were supposed to be private places, after all, and Scott couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. Not that he could stop Isaac's thoughts from coming into his head—even if he could, Scott wasn’t sure he would. Secretly he loved the hidden parts of Isaac’s mind that no one else was allowed to see."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so clearly this was written before a lot of events in season three. I never posted it before now because I didn't know how to finish it; now that my Scott/Isaac feelings are rearing their beautiful heads again, I feel comfortable posting this story. When this story begins, Erica is dead and Boyd is still alive.
> 
> On a different note, my first real ship was Draco/Harry, and in that fandom you couldn't find an author that didn't have at least one mind-reading fic. For some reason not every fandom is like that (seriously, why? Mind-reading fics are so important). Anyway, here is my contribution to the Scott/Isaac fandom. If you need me I'll be off writing mind-reading fics for every other ship on this website that doesn't have one.

Scott should have turned around and left as soon as he saw the other wolf. It must have been seven feet tall, and was undoubtedly the ugliest werewolf to ever cut through Beacon Hills. The man was already grotesque; when he transformed, the only thing that changed about him were his eyes, which glowed the bright, threatening blue of an Alpha. Apart from anything else, that should have been enough to make Scott reconsider trying to fight the man out of Beacon Hills.

But it wasn't. Scott wanted him gone, and he was prepared to do anything to make that happen. Even after the man informed Scott he was going to regret it. Even after Scott's fur stood on end and goosebumps crawled across his flesh, a voice in Scott’s mind told him, “ _don’t doubt yourself, you can handle this.”_

It was only when Scott leaped at the wolf and was met with a huge, hulking arm in face that Scott realized just how stupid that voice was.

Butt Scott didn’t have too much time to dwell on his foolishness before he was being pounded into the ground with a force that rendered his defense useless. He was alone in the woods—even the birds and bugs were silent. No one was around. No one knew he was there, either, not even Stiles, because it had been impulsive and he hadn’t wanted to intimidate the wolf by bringing a pack.

As he felt his head crash into the trunk of a tree and heard the crunch of his bones breaking, the forest around Scott began to lose its shape. Shades of color blended like the chromatography experiment Scott had done in Chemistry that year, and the shapes of the woods around him blurred together. A high-pitched noise started in the back of Scott’s head, drowning out all other sound, and he knew he was going to pass out. He felt near-pleasant numbness as his vision faded for and the noise in his head grew louder. It was nice, being so engulfed in the noise, like riding a wave; Scott felt like he was floating, floating, floating away, following the noise into nothingness, into the bright light that radiated warmth throughout his body.

******

“Scott? Scott. Open your eyes. Scott! Can you hear me?”

“Uhhh,” Scott groaned, with an attempt to raise his head. It was too heavy; he settled for a poor attempt at blinking. “What—”

He recognized the ceiling he was under: it was Dr. Deaton’s veterinarian office. Every bone in Scott’s body ached, but he couldn’t remember why. He scrambled through his memories for an explanation. Had he been hit by a bus? Had Mr. Argent decided he was tired of their truce, and attacked Scott when his back was turned? Scott struggled to calm his heart, which he knew was racing. The Argents had only just made a truce pact with Beacon Hill’s wolves—if it was broken already, Scott would be devastated.

“Scott!”

“Mm,” Scott muttered, recognizing the voice this time. It was Dr. Deaton. Two other heart beats echoed through the room, but Scott couldn’t move his head enough to look over and see who it was. He struggled to speak through the dryness in his throat. “wh... appened?”

_Awesome. You gave him brain damage. Good job, Lahey._

Woah, what? Scott’s eyes flew open again. That voice he recognized, too, as belonging to Isaac, but it had sounded as if the other boy had spoken the words into his ears. Scott paused to listen, but the heartbeat he identified as belonging to Isaac—slightly sped up, as usual, due to ridiculous amounts of Coca Cola—was on the other side of the room. There was no reason why Isaac’s voice would sound so close if he was standing over ten feet away.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” Isaac said. This time it did come from across the room.

“No one said anything,” Derek said, as if Isaac were stupid.

“I just heard Scott say he heard my voice—”

“Scott’s barely opened his mouth since he’s been here,” Dr. Deaton said slowly. “Isaac. Are you feeling all right? Do you need to lie down again?”

Again? Scott’s head hurt. He had no idea what was going on—Isaac was talking in his ear and then, seconds later, he was across the room.

Dr. Deaton didn’t seem terribly concerned about the fact that Scott was pretty sure his brain was exploding.

“Exploding? Do you need more meds?” Isaac said.

“I... no. Water,” Scott grumbled in a shaky voice.

“What’s exploding? What’s going on?” Derek said, clearly beginning to get irritated. “Isaac, who are you talking to?”

 _Not you, asswolf._ “Scott just said he feels like his head is going to explode—is no one else concerned?”

Scott snorted. Asswolf. That was a good one.

Isaac’s pulse sped up infinitesimally. “Wait, did I say that out loud?”

“Say _what_ out loud?” Derek asked angrily. “Isaac, _what is going on_?”

“I just heard—wait—Scott?”

“Yeah,” Scott said. This time moving his head was slightly less painful. Okay, good. Good. His werewolf side was healing him, then. Hopefully it wouldn’t be long before he felt well enough to get up. With an immense amount of effort he managed to draw his upper body off the metal table so that he was in a sitting position. The room spun around him, but when his vision settled he could finally see the people talking around him. Derek was across the room with his arms folded, leaning against the wall and, rather characteristically, brooding. Beside him was Isaac, staring at Scott as if in shock.

 

Deaton lifted a cold rag and put it the Scott’s forehead, placing a cup of water in his hand. “You took a beating yesterday, Scott,” he informed him.

 

“Beating?” Scott repeated stupidly. Try as he might he still couldn’t remember what had ended him in the vet’s office. Some sort of beating, apparently, but Scott couldn’t recall for the life of him who could have—

 

Oh.

 

The bald wolf. Walking into the forest alone. Getting pummeled into the ground. Now Scott remembered. He thought he was going to die in the woods with that huge, bloodthirsty wolf towering over him.

 

“You almost did, but I found you in time,” Isaac said. “Thought it was weird that you just left without saying anything, so I hunted your scent until I found you bleeding on the forest floor. You shouldn’t have gone to fight him without me.”

 

As if Scott was going to bring more innocent people into his problems. It wasn’t as if he’d expected the wolf to react to violently.

 

 _I really don’t know how you’ve made it this far alive._ “I’m not a person, I’m a wolf. I could have helped—”

 

“What is going on?” Derek repeated, sounding furious now. “What’s this one-sided conversation?”

 

Scott was too confused and in too much pain too try to figure out what Derek meant. Except now that he thought about it—he hadn’t said that out loud, about Isaac being an innocent person. He’d only thought it. But somehow Isaac could hear him.

 

“Dr. Deaton,” Isaac said, wide eyes on Scott’s face. “Um, something’s wrong. I can hear what Scott is thinking, and... I think he can hear me.”

 

Instead of responding right away, Dr. Deaton took that moment to shine a flashlight into Scott’s eyes. He pressed his hands over Scott’s face, said, for Scott’s sake, “your bruises are almost completely healed,” and then stepped back to look at him fully.

 

“Scott,” he said. “Does what Isaac just said make sense to you?”

 

“I—what? I don’t know. Nothing really makes sense. My head hurts so bad.” As if for emphasis, a pang went through Scott’s skull. He winced.

 

_Oh, god. Please let him be okay. Please, please, please—_

 

“Isaac?”

 

_Shit. You can hear me, can’t you?_

 

Scott gasped. He could hear Isaac’s voice. Now that his eyes were steady though, and he could watch Isaac’s face, he realized something: Isaac’s mouth hadn’t moved. Actually, now that Scott thought about it, Isaac’s mouth had never moved when his voice had been close to Scott’s ear.

 

“I can hear you,” Scott confirmed as his eyes met Isaac’s. “Is this another one of those weird supernatural things? Dr. Deaton?”

“It could be,” Dr. Deaton said, but he looked unsure. “When Isaac found you in the woods he thought you were dying—” Isaac’s voice in his ear muttered, _scariest fucking moment of my life_ “—so he did what he could to save you, which turned out to be not much.” _Okay, asshole._ “In the end he settled for taking away your pain using the method we showed him he could use on dogs... apparently, it works on humans as well.”

 

Now that Scott’s major injuries were fading away, his werewolf senses were returning, and with their return came the realization that Isaac was embarrassed. Scott could feel that emotion coming off of him in waves; he could smell the blood that had rushed to Isaac's cheeks, and the sweat that was gathering on his neck.

 

_Whatever. I saved your life. You should be thanking me._

 

“You saved my life?” Scott directed the question at Isaac. He’d taken pain away from dozens of animals, but it had never saved their lives.

 

“We think the pack bond between the two of you gave Isaac the power to save your life. Under normal circumstances, you would have died. Because Isaac found you on time, and because he used so much of his own energy to help you, you were alive by the time Derek showed up to help you both.”

 

It took Scott a moment to realize that the look in Dr. Deaton’s eyes, a look he’d never seen before, was thankfulness. Dr. Deaton was grateful to Isaac for saving Scott.

 

As soon as he thought this, Isaac's embarrassment increased. The gratitude made him uncomfortable.

 

_You’re gonna have to get used to it, dude, ‘cause I really appreciate you saving me. And so will Stiles. And my mom. Brace yourself._

 

Across the room, Isaac met his eyes with a tiny smirk on his face. _I’ll do my best to avoid you all, then._

 

_Nah way, man. Mom already loves you for always doing the dishes. She’s gonna be fawning when I tell her what happened._

 

“So what is this, then?” Derek’s agitated voice cut across their telepathic conversation. “They can read each other’s minds? Is that normal?”

 

“None of this is normal, Derek,” Dr. Deaton said. “I’ve never seen this before. I’ve never seen one wolf try to take the pain away from another, and so I have never anticipated this reaction. It’s entirely possible that there will be some... adverse side-effects.”

 

“That’s what you would call this?” Derek asked in disbelief. “‘Adverse side-effects’?”

 

Dr. Deaton met Derek’s stare with one of his own. “If you don’t like my diagnosis, you’re more than welcome to find another nearby werewolf veterinarian.” Derek’s lip curled but he said nothing. Dr. Deaton continued, “Otherwise, Scott, if you feel up to moving, I’ve been here since you were brought in yesterday, and I wouldn’t mind getting some sleep.”

 

“Of course,” Scott said, slowly setting his feet on the floor. Fuck, his whole body hurt. The pain wasn’t extreme anymore—it felt like the one of the days after a particularly rough lacrosse game, before Scott had been bitten, when his muscles would still protest the previous day’s engagements. When Scott landed his full weight on his feet and the room didn’t spin even a little, he cracked a self-deprecating smile at the bandages covering his body. “Thanks for fixing me up, Doc.”

 

“You should be thanking Isaac. He’s the one who saved your life,” Dr. Deaton said. “And the person whose thoughts you’ll be sharing, at least until I get find more research on the mental bond and figure out how to get rid of it. I would appreciate it if the two of you checked in with me concerning your condition every few days. We’ll work on a way to get it sorted out. Until then, boys, good luck.”

 

******

 

Derek agreed—after a great deal of annoyed mumbling under his breath—to drive Isaac and Scott home. Scott didn’t feel up to running yet, and Isaac wasn’t about to pass up a ride in the Camaro, so they didn’t complain.

 

When they got back to Scott’s house, Melissa McCall wasn’t happy to see them. “You didn’t think to call?” she said, exasperated. “You’ve been gone for over twenty-four hours, Scott. You didn’t come home at all last night. I thought you must have been out with your—with your pack. But just because you’re a werewolf doesn’t mean you don’t have a curfew, young man!”

 

“I got into a fight with an alpha,” Scott said, collapsing onto his bed. Mrs. McCall stood in the doorway with a frown on her face. Isaac was in the guest room next to Scott’s, where he’d been staying since Derek kicked him out of the old Hale house, and Scott knew he was listening in on their conversation because a steady stream of Isaac’s thoughts were passing through the new bond between their minds. Scott was annoyed to hear Isaac’s amusement at his mom yelling at him.

 

 _Sorry, dude, but it’s funny to hear your mom try to scold you,_ Isaac thought. _You can tell all she wants to do is hug and make up or something._ Another thought came across the bond, too, quieter than the other one, as if it was only in the back of Isaac’s mind. _Must be weird to think of that as yelling. If dad ever spoke like that it would have been a fucking whisper._

 

The thought made Scott pause for a moment. Isaac never really talked about his dad. He hadn’t mentioned him to Scott since before Isaac had shown up to his house and asked to stay with him. Scott had always assumed Isaac wasn’t thinking about him, either, in an attempt to stop reliving old wounds. Now Scott realized was wrong; Isaac didn’t talk about his father, but apparently the man had remained in the back of his mind.

 

_Your mom’s talking, Scott. Pay attention._

 

Isaac’s unsettled voice called Scott back from his reverie. He was right: Mrs. McCall was speaking, asking Scott if he was all right now. Isaac had called her yesterday as soon as he’d brought Scott to Dr. Deaton, which Scott was grateful for. If he hadn’t done that Scott would be in knee-deep trouble right now.

 

Scott shrugged. “I was just out cold for a while. Dr. Deaton helped bandage me up and stuff.” He held out a bandage-covered arm for his mom’s inspection.

 

His mom didn’t look satisfied. “Are you sure Dr. Deaton knows what he’s doing when it comes to this? He’s a vet, Scott, not a doctor.”

 

“He knows what he’s doing, Mrs. McCall,” Isaac said, appearing next to her at Scott’s bedroom door. “I was there the whole time. Dr. Deaton’s kind of an expert at this wolf stuff.”

 

Because Isaac said it instead of Scott, Scott’s mom believed him. She even cracked a smile. “I told you, Isaac, call me Melissa. And thank you for keeping an eye on Scott.”

 

“He was the one who saved me,” Scott said, before Isaac could change the subject and avoid the praise. He shot a glare at Scott, which Scott returned with a smirk. “Without Isaac I’d be dead.”

 

“Oh, sweetie,” Melissa said, enveloping Isaac in a hug. “Thank you. Thank you so, so much. You do a lot of good for my son.”

 

“It’s... it’s nothing,” Isaac muttered as he tried awkwardly to navigate Melissa’s hug. Scott snickered at him. “It’s not a big deal.”

 

“If you saved my son’s life it is a big deal,” Melissa insisted, her arms still wrapped around the uncomfortable teenager. “Okay? So I don’t want you doing any chores for a week. I mean it, Isaac. You pull more than your own weight around here,” she paused to give Scott an accusing look, “and you deserve some time off. Speaking of people who deserve time off, I have to head to work now. When I get back I want to kitchen cleaned—and, Isaac, I don’t want you doing it.”

 

 _Aw, man,_ Scott groaned inwardly. Isaac’s thought in response sounded an awful lot like someone sticking out their tongue and blowing a raspberry with it.

 

“Don’t get into too much trouble when I’m gone, boys,” Melissa called over her shoulder as she walked away from Scott’s room and went to get ready for work.

 

Isaac stepped into the room so he could sit in the chair at Scott’s desk. “So... should we talk about the mind-reading thing?”

 

Scott shrugged. “I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. It’ll go away soon enough, right?”

 

“I’m not sure,” Isaac said honestly. _What if it doesn’t?_

 

“We’ll figure it out,” Scott assured him. “Anyway, what’s the worst that could happen, I hear too many of your sarcastic remarks?”

 

The corner of Isaac’s mouth twitched. “Those could have major consequences. Maybe having me in your head will turn you into a jerk.”

 

“As long as it’s not Derek, I think I’m good.”

 

“Jeez,” Isaac agreed, “imagine what a shitshow his head would be.”

 

Scott laughed, "I'd rather not. I'm really hoping this won’t end with permanent mental scarring."

 

For a while Isaac just looks at him, as if he has something to say but isn't sure he should say it. His thoughts are going so quickly that Scott couldn’t pick on out of his head.

 

"Isaac?"

 

"Yeah. I gotta go do homework, dude. Missed a day of school to make sure you were okay at Deaton's."

 

Scott groaned. "Aw, crap, I'm gonna have so much work to make up."

 

"It's too bad you're not sharing thoughts with Lydia," Isaac said as he left for the guest room he was staying in. "She'd probably have all the answers."

 

"Yeah," Scott agreed sarcastically, "and all the make-up tips I never knew I needed."

 

Isaac answered with a smirk, and proceeded to spend the next hour pretending that his thoughts were Lydia’s. By the third time “ _damn, I broke a nail”_ echoed in Scott’s head, he had to laugh. He wasn't sure whether he should start cursing the mental bond he now shared with Isaac, or thank it for the comic relief.


	2. Chapter 2

 

Scott had never really thought about _thinking_ before. He used his brain, obviously—though sometimes Stiles begged to differ—but he never pondered how it worked. As he laid in bed that night, and his mind raced with conversations he'd had that day and events that had occurred, he realized what an awesome thing his mind was. He was used to his mind racing at night—but he wasn't prepared to listen to someone else's do the same. Every so often there would be a lull, a time on silence when none of Isaac's thoughts were coming through, but most of time Scott could listen to the stream of consciousness pulled straight from Isaac's head.

 

_...probably should have figured out a better way to phrase that... one more rude comment to Mr. Harris and he promised he'd have me suspended... fucking assholes thinking they're so tough because they're good at lacrosse, I could knock them all on their asses before they even realized what was happening... now that dad's gone I can actually get into fights without worrying about getting beaten double at home... weird to hear Scott's thoughts in my head, hope this doesn't affect my grades...._

 

 _Hey,_ Scott thought. _Stop thinking mean things about me. I'm right here._

 

 _Sorry,_ Isaac thought back instantly, communication much faster when there were no mouths to open and no option to think before speaking. _Hate apologizing._

 

_You hate apologizing?_

 

 _Makes me think of my dad,_ Isaac swiftly thought back. His heartbeat, which Scott could hear  in the next room, increased. _Ugh. I didn't mean to tell you that._

 

_I didn't realize you thought about your dad so much._

 

 _Well, I do,_ Isaac bristled. _Happy?_

 

 _Usually, yeah,_ Scott thought. _Defensive?_

 

_Usually, yeah._

 

Scott grinned into his pillow. Isaac was so predictable when he was trying to be prickly. Instead of responding right away, Scott let his thoughts wander. So far nothing detrimental had happened because of the bond; the two of them had shared it for almost five hours, and neither had thought anything terrible enough to start an argument or hurt the other’s feelings. At first Scott had been worried he might think the wrong thing and upset Isaac—because Scott had learned from the very beginning of their friendship that Isaac was not only easily agitated but also much more sensitive than he let on—but as of yet, the only real consequence of reading Isaac’s mind was that Scott was exposed to more sarcastic comments than he was used to.

 

There was something niggling at the back of Scott’s mind, though, that made him concerned as to how long the bond would last. Five hours wasn’t long to go without thinking about it, but a few days or even longer would make it nearly impossible. It would be awkward as hell to bring up, but, well, right about now on a normal night Scott would be having a bit more fun than he was at the moment. He figured he had to mention it eventually.

 

_Do you think we're ever not going to be able to hear each others' thoughts? I mean... we're teenage boys. What about sex?_

 

Scott could practically see Isaac's blush in the next room; as it was, his nose picked up on the sweat of other boy’s chagrin. _Last time I checked I wasn't having sex with anyone,_ Isaac thought, _unfortunately. I mean—I didn't mean to think that!_

 

Scott laughed out loud. A loud bump reverberated as Isaac threw his pillow at their conjoining wall. _You can't hide anything from me now, Isaac! I'll know all your deep, dark secrets by the time this is over._

 

For a moment the bond was quiet. Scott listened intently, but none of Isaac's thoughts came through.

 

 _Wait,_ Isaac thought, _did you hear that?_

 

_I couldn't hear anything._

 

_Huh. Maybe when the thoughts are running too quickly they can't translate over the bond?_

 

 _Probably, yeah,._ Scott responded, yawning into his comforter. _But we should go to sleep. School tomorrow._

 

Isaac's first thought was, _School's dumb._

 

_You're telling me, man. I'm the one failing two classes already._

 

 _Mm,_ Isaac thought. _Your fault. I'll help you cheat. Tired now._

 

Scott snorted, closing his eyes. The sound coming from Isaac's mind now was nothing but a comfortable hum. Asleep already, then.

 

When Scott faded into sleep, too, twenty minutes later, he fell into his dreams feeling as if someone were right there beside him in bed.

 

******

 

School the next day proved to be somewhat of a disaster. As usual, he hadn’t done any of his homework, and, unsurprisingly, had completely forgotten about his test in economics. Even after he mentioned his absence the previous day, Coach Finstock wasn't impressed with Scott's excuses. Actually, what he said was, "I want you sit there and fail that test and think about how our _team_ is going to fail if you and Lahey miss any more practices after school."

 

So Scott sat in his uncomfortable metal chair, a bead a sweat dripping down his neck and absolutely no idea what he was doing as he regarded the questions before him.

 

 _Crap,_ Scott thought. He had a feeling that even if he had been in school yesterday he wouldn't know the answers.

 

 _That's why people study_ , Isaac's smug voice infiltrated Scott's thoughts.

 

 _That's why people don't get turned into werewolves when they're supposed to be paying attention to high school_ , Scott hissed back. Isaac was in French—most of his thoughts coming over the bond were vocabulary sentences that didn't make much sense to Scott—and listening to the other boy think through pronoun placement only made concentrating on his test even more difficult.

 

Especially now, as Isaac giggled to himself over a sentence on the board.

 

 _Dude, you’re screwing up my concentration!_ Scott said, filling in a random bubble on his scantron.

 

_Sorry. I mean, no I’m not. But Ms. Morell has us writing the weirdest questions for vocabulary practice. Est-ce qu’il y a un loup dans chez moi?_

 

 _Huh?_ Scott asked, barely listening as he read another question.

 

Isaac’s heavy sigh of disbelief came through the mind bond. _Scott, supply and demand. That’s the answer. Seriously, you don’t know that?_

 

_What about number twenty? And number twenty-one. And number twenty-two._

 

_Jesus, Scott. Just think the questions at me. I have to take the test later, anyway._

 

_You’re down with helping me cheat on the whole thing?_

 

_I’m down with getting you to stop thinking for a second so I can finish my work._

 

_You know, people are usually telling me to start thinking things through, not to stop._

 

 _Third time Danny’s looked at me this period,_ Isaac noted, the thought dim in his head, as if he were registering it only in the back of his mind. His thoughts came louder when he responded, _Don’t worry about it. I’ll do the thinking for both us._

 

Without meaning to Scott thought, _I used to think we didn’t have anything in common before you stopped being an asshole_. Then, _oh, shit, Isaac, I didn’t mean that._

 

_You did, but whatever. I used to think the same thing, except I wouldn’t say I ever stopped being an asshole._

 

Scott smiled into his test.

 

_And stop thinking you're going to hurt my feelings, Scott. I'm tougher than you think._

 

_I never said you weren't tough._

 

 _Ah, but you thought it,_ Isaac replied, amid thoughts on a discussion he was having with the girl who sits next to him. It took a lot of concentration to figure out which thoughts Scott was supposed to hear and which weren't directed at him; thankfully, he had almost finished the test. Finstock was looking at Scott balefully. Scott responded with a sheepish grin.

 

 _No I didn't,_ Scott thought. _You're tough as nails. Sometimes your widdle feelings get hurt, though._

 

_I'm going to beat the shit out of you._

 

_No you won't. You love me too much to hurt me_

 

_Meet me on the field at three-thirty, McCall._

 

The thoughts were joking, Scott could tell. Isaac would never challenge Scott to a fight he couldn't win.

 

_What?! I could win the fight!_

 

 _Every teenage boy thinks he can win every fight,_ Scott said, feeling like he was poking a sleeping lion. Isaac's voice reminds him of how they got into this mind-reading situation in the first place, and, okay, _almost_ any fight. He could win one against Isaac, anyway. He's been a wolf for much longer.

 

_If wolfing out was off the table and it was only a fist fight, you still think you could win? You think I didn't learn anything about fighting from getting beaten up by my dad every other day?_

 

Scott wasn't sure how to respond to that.

 

 _Sorry,_ Isaac though nervously, _I didn't mean to do that. Usually I'm able to think before I speak. I wasn't trying to get sympathy or make things awkward or—_

 

 _Isaac, calm down,_ Scott thought. This was what he was worried about: saying something stupid and setting Isaac off, making him think of his shitty past all because Scott thought something dumb and it brought back memories.

 

 _It's fine,_ Isaac thought. _I'm fine. The period ends in two minutes, did you finish your test?_

 

There were still five empty bubbles that needed to be filled in, so Scott hastily rattled off the remaining questions to Isaac. The other boy answered his questions easily, but Scott could still hear, quietly, in the back of Isaac's mind, anxious thoughts on the chance that Scott might accidentally trigger a past memory. Isaac thought about how Scott had said the previous night that he wouldn't want to be sharing thoughts with Derek, because his mind was a scary place, but Isaac was sure his was just as bad. Soon the thoughts stopped coming through the bond—Isaac's mind was moving too fast for them to transfer—and there was silence coming from Isaac's mind.

 

 _You okay?_ Scott asked.

 

_Dude, I’m fine. Stop worrying about it._

 

 _No,_ Scott thought, _I mean, are you okay with the fact that you’ll never be able to beat me in a fight?_

 

Isaac’s responded with a lot of mental snickering.

******

Lacrosse proved to be easier, now that Scott could communicate with Isaac easily, even across the field. They had a game that night—which Coach Finstock grumbled about letting them play in, despite the fact that they’d missed practice the previous day due to Scott being in the hospital and Isaac there with him. By the start of the second quarter they were being cheered on so heavily the crowd was deafening. Throughout the first quarter they had worked together using their mental bond to help each other out: a quick call of _on your left!_ made it possible for Scott to score, and he repaid the favor by letting Isaac know where to be on the next pass. Isaac’s voice in his head made Scott feel like the other boy was constantly behind him, backing him up, ready to take on whatever necessary to ensure Scott’s safety—or, more importantly, the safety of the ball reaching the net.

 

As soon as the game was over, Isaac was at Scott’s side dripping sweat. His face was red from exertion, and when they got to the locker room and began to change, an angry red welt became visible on his shoulder from a hard hit by the other team. “We made a good team out there.”

 

“Yeah, we did,” Scott agreed, stripping down to his underwear so he could examine a scratch on his leg that was almost healed. “Sorry about your shoulder, man, I didn’t realize what he was doing until it was too late to warn you.”

 

Isaac’s eyes flicked to Scott’s mostly-nude body before he swiftly turned away and shrugged. “It’s probably healing already,” he muttered. Isaac’s thoughts swept into Scott’s head as a steady stream of _don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it._

 

“What, the pain hurts so bad you have to not think about it?” Scott said with a crooked smile. He stepped closer to Isaac to examine his shoulder. “Some kind of werewolf you are—”

 

Scott was stopped by a sudden flood of Isaac’s voice in his mind. _No, no, no, can’t get closer, need to leave, too much skin, can’t—_

 

Isaac’s mind went silent, but when Scott studied his face, he didn’t see anything there. Internally he’d been freaking out—and likely still was, if he was thinking so fast it couldn’t travel over the bond—but externally he still looked calm and collected.

 

“Dude,” Scott said slowly. He felt as if he was missing something. “Are you freaking out?”

“Uh, no,” Isaac said, shrugging again. “Why? Should I be? Does my shoulder look that bad? That’s weird that it hasn’t healed yet. I think I’m gonna run back to your house and shower there. So...” he meets Scott’s confused eyes with his own large blue ones, “I’ll see you later.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Scott said. By the time he said the words, though, Isaac was already leaving the locker room. His thoughts had become readable again, but they were nothing unusual. In fact, they were about as ordinary as possible; Scott could head Isaac making small talk to Danny outside the locker room, and his thoughts reflected nothing apart from the conversation he was currently having.

 

Scott had noticed that the welt on Isaac’s back was completely gone when he left the locker room. It had healed, then—but Isaac was still using it as an excuse to get away from Scott. Maybe he’d thought something that had made Isaac have another flashback, and that was why he’d been freaking out. But, no, what had he thought? _Too much skin._ Was it possible that Isaac was intimidated by Scott’s body? Scott was buff, of course, but Isaac wasn’t much smaller than him. Maybe he just had a weird aversion to the male body, some kind of strange homophobic werewolf thing.

 

He could hear Isaac thinking that he wished Scott would stop thinking about him.

 

Deciding it was better to leave the issue alone, Scott let it drop and went to shower off.

 

******

When Scott arrived at his house later, Isaac was already asleep. A slow, easy humming had been coming through the bond since Scott had gotten in his mom’s car to leave.

 

That morning Scott had asked Isaac if any of his thoughts has filtered into Isaac’s dream the night before, and Isaac had denied remembering anything. Since Scott hadn’t been truly alone since the bond began over a day ago, and since he didn’t know when he would be alone again, he did what most teenagers did when they finally got a chance to be by themselves: he jerked off.

 

And, _fuck,_ that was better. The stress from a day of school and the lacrosse game melted off his shoulders. God, he had no idea how he was going to go without this again for however long it took for Isaac to fall asleep before him again.

 

These days Scott saw only nameless faces in his arousal: he’d given up on thinking about Allison when the two of them had ended it, and he’d decided it hurt too much to pretend she still there with him. Scott thrust into his fist and cried out. He was almost there, just a few more thrusts..

 

_—coming to find me here to kill me, he’s going to kill me, going to stuff me in the freezer again for two days, so the only thing I can smell is blood—_

 

“Isaac?” Scott said in disbelief. He was so shocked to hear _that_ in the middle of his masturbation session that he said the name out loud, instead of just thinking it. When he realized he was calling out Isaac’s name with his hand wrapped around his cock, Scott squeaked and dropped his hands to his side. _Isaac, what happened?_

 

Isaac didn’t reply;  his thoughts were nothing but terrified confusement in his head. With a heavy sigh, Scott washed his hands in the shower spray before turning the water off and stepping out of the tub. It wasn’t like he was going to get off, anyway, with Isaac’s screamed thoughts still echoing in his head. His half-hard cock became fully soft as he quickly changed into his pajamas, and by the time he was knocking on Isaac’s bedroom door he was more concerned for his friend than anything else.

 

No response came to Scott’s knock. Harsh, labored breathing came through the door as Scott opened it. When he looked inside, Isaac was awake on his bed, staring at the wall.

 

Instead of a greeting, Isaac asked, “What did you hear?”

Slowly, Scott approached Isaac’s bed. He stood awkwardly a few feet in front of him, not sure what to say. He settled on the truth. “It sounded like you were being attacked or something, but I didn’t hear anyone else in the house, so I thought maybe you were... having a nightmare.”

 

_Sorry for waking you up._

 

“You didn’t. I was awake already.”

 

Isaac didn’t say anything, but his mind was clear. _He’s been dead for months and he still ruins everything for me._

 

The thought clearly wasn’t meant for Scott to hear. He felt like an intruder. This revelation was private, the most private thing Isaac had ever shared with him; but as apparent as it was that Isaac wanted to take back what he’d thought, Scott wouldn’t have given it up for the world.

 

Tentatively, he sat on the end of Isaac’s bed. “You can talk to me about him if you want, Isaac. You know I’m here for you. And not just because you’re pack. You’re one of my best friends.”

 

Isaac sat up and rubbed at his head. The loudest thought in his head was, _I don’t really want to talk about it._ But a quieter voice in the back of his mind repeated, _best friends?_

 

Scott laughed. “Yeah, Isaac, best friends. It’s not like I’d just let anyone crash in my guest room for a few months.”

A soft blush surfaced into Isaac’s cheeks; the steady blue light coming in from the window made his cheekbones even more prominent. _I’ve never had a best friend before,_ Isaac thought.

 

  
“Really?” Scott said, hopping off the bed. “Dude, you missed out. But we’re gonna get you all caught up, okay? First thing best friends do is...” he scourged his mind for something he and Isaac could do right now, something that wasn’t illegal or likely to end badly. “First thing best friends do is play video games!”

 

Isaac watched with wide eyes as Scott pulled him out of bed. “I—what?”

 

“Come on, Isaac!”

 

“It’s eleven-thirty on a school night,” Isaac protested feebly.

 

“Which is the perfect time to prove our best friendness,” Scott assured him. He was going to be the best friend Isaac never had. “But keep your voice down! My mom’s trying to sleep.”

 

_Why don’t we just think instead of talking?_

 

 _I guess I didn’t think of that,_ Scott responded honestly.

 

 _Wait!_ Isaac thought frantically, as if something had just occurred to him. Before Scott could panic and start asking him what was the matter, Isaac continued, _If we’re staying up late then I’m getting a coke._

 

 _Unbelievable,_ Scott spluttered. _You’re really predictable, Isaac, you know that right?_

 

Isaac, who had already tiptoed into the kitchen to get his drink, thought back that if he could see Scott right now he’d be flipping him off.

 

_Whatever, asswolf._

 

_You can’t steal my insults, McCall!_

 

 _I just did,_ Scott thought as he made his way to the living room and set up his Xbox. _Asswolf._

 

_All right. Get ready for me to tackle the shit out of you._

 

Before Scott could respond, a six-feet-tall werewolf pummeled him into the ground and the air was knocked from his lungs. _Fuck,_ Scott thought as he laid on the floor. Isaac wasn’t even bothering to follow up on his tackle; he lounged on the nearby couch with a coke in hand, casual as he pleased.

 

 _Wow, Scott, that was easier than I thought it would be,_ Isaac thought, smirking hugely.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott said as he lifted himself off the floor. “You know, it’s pretty creepy that you’re saying things to me but your mouth isn’t moving at all.”

 

 _Best friends are supposed to be creepy, right?_ Isaac asked. _Isn’t that why you keep Stiles around?_

 

As revenge, Scott drank the rest of Isaac’s coke.

 

They spent the rest of the night playing mindless video games and pranking each other every time one of them got up to go to the bathroom or grab another coke. Because it was really just Isaac doing both of those things, by the end of the night Scott was exhausted from coming up with clever places to put Isaac’s soda and tackling him into the ground. It was six in the morning, and the two of them would need to be up in an hour to get ready for school, but Scott couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun. Being with Isaac was different than hanging out with Allison or Stiles—maybe it was because he was pack, or because their minds were bonded, but Scott was sure he had never grown so close to someone in just under seven hours. Not that he preferred Isaac to Stiles now, or anything; it was just nice to be so close to someone else, too.

 

At some point during the night, Isaac’s thoughts wandered back to his earlier nightmare, and this time he allowed Scott to ask him about it. The terrors came frequently; not every night, but usually a few times a week. A memory crossed Isaac’s mind at one point, about being so exhausted and hopeless from nightmares that he’d considered just ending his life, but he’d been saved by a lull where he hadn’t dreamt at all. Because Scott knew Isaac hadn’t meant to share _that_ much, he didn’t comment on this accidental disclosure. At least, Isaac said, he hadn’t had many nightmares recently. The one from that night had been relatively rare as of late—but it had also been more lurid than usual. The screaming thoughts that had come through the bond were from when Isaac had first woken up and he’d thought he was at his old house, waking up from being passed out on the living room floor.

 

Scott had asked if that had ever happened in real life, and Isaac had responded that it was in the past.

 

The only problem with the previous night’s arrangement was that, at 6:13 that morning, they were both finally tired enough to go to sleep. There was less than an hour left until their usual wake-up time, and using that time to sleep would only make them more tired for the day ahead.

 

 _We’re in deep shit,_ Scott thought as he headed toward the kitchen. Isaac, who was busy picking up an impressively large collection of empty coke cans across the room, couldn’t help but agree.

 

“This was your idea,” he reminded Scott. “And... what are you doing?”

 

Scott lifted a large bag of flour and put it on the countertop, followed by a container of oil and several other assorted cooking supplies. He didn’t say anything in response, just kept loading ingredients onto the counter with a grin.

 

“You’re making _waffles_?” Isaac inquired after a moment of listening to Scott’s thoughts. “From scratch?”

 

“Yeah, man. Haven’t you ever...” Scott trailed off. Of course Isaac had never made waffles from scratch. It wasn’t as if anyone had been around to teach him the way Scott’s mother had taught him. Every Sunday morning for the first few years after his father left Scott would wake up early and trot down into the kitchen, where his mother was always waiting with a smile on her face, ready to start the day with family waffle-making sessions. That was what she had called it: it was their family day. Even at the time Scott knew it was her way of establishing them as a two-person team without the need of a third. Scott hadn’t realized until recently just how much that early structure in his life had helped him.

 

Isaac stared at Scott as he began to mix ingredients in a large bowl. “That’s a nice story,” he said guilelessly. _It must be weird to have a family that cares._

 

“You know what it’s like now,” Scott pointed out. “You have the pack.”

 

_That’s not the same._

 

“It could be if you let it,” Scott said. “Now get your ass over here and help me stir the batter. My mom’s gonna be up in like ten minutes wondering what we’re doing, and we have to have breakfast ready by then so she doesn’t get mad.”

 

Instead of grabbing the spoon Scott handed to him, Isaac walked over to the sink and pick up a dish to scrub.

 

“Isaac,” Scott said, voice harder than usual. “You’re not washing any more dishes, all right? You’re going to help me make waffles whether you want to or not.” He thinks, _this isn’t your old house. You’re worth more than that here._

 

With a steely expression Isaac joined Scott at the counter, his thoughts running too fast for Scott to catch. Eventually they settled on, _How could he possibly be so nice?_

 

“Years of practice,” Scott said with a smirk. The sound of Melissa’s alarm clock reached their ears. “Mix the batter! Hurry! Go, go, go!”

 

With a grin, Isaac complied.


	3. Chapter 3

School that day was somewhat of a disaster. After a total of zero hours of sleep he was practically a zombie through his classes. A good portion of the day was spent listening to the soft humming over the bond that let Scott know Isaac was sleeping in class, and it was amusing, at least, to wait for the inevitable and unfortunate awakening by his teachers.

 

At one point the thought crossed Isaac’s mind that _this day would be so much better with caffeine._ Scott, remembering the can of coke he kept in his locker for emergencies, excused himself to the bathroom. He forced himself to think about other things on the way to his locker in an attempt to surprise Isaac. After he got the can from his locker he thought, _meet me in the B-wing bathroom._ Isaac, though clearly confused, acquiesced. When he arrived and saw coke in Scott’s hand, and the huge grin on his face, Isaac looked shocked.

 

His first thought was _so fucking unbelievably perfect._

 

“It’s just soda, Isaac,” Scott said with a laugh. “It’s not _that_ great.”

 

 _Not the soda,_ Isaac thought. His eyes widened. Quickly he said aloud, “Thanks. Does this mean you’re supporting my habit?”

 

“Just for today,” Scott said. “It can’t be healthy after having so many last night, but, well... whatever. As long as you realize your heartbeat is, like, constantly faster than everyone else’s because you’re so hopped up on caffeine.”

 

“I realize,” Isaac said. _I like that you can pick it out of a crowd._

 

“Right,” Scott said, suddenly uncomfortable. “Um... I should go back to class. Listen, I think we should go to Deaton’s later on, to check in. Okay?”

 

“Yeah, sure,” Isaac said. He was thinking too fast, again.

 

“Are my thoughts ever silent?” Scott asked aloud, though Isaac had probably already heard it as the thought came into his head.

 

_What do you mean?_

 

“I mean, sometimes you’re thinking so fast that I can’t hear what’s in your head,” Scott explained. “Does that ever happen with me?”

 

Isaac regarded him for a long moment, both mouth and mind quiet. After a while of meeting Scott’s brown eyes with his own, he murmured, “No. It’s panicking. You don’t have anything to hide.”

 

“And you do?” Scott asked, curious.

 

Isaac smirked humorlessly. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 

******

 

Stiles insisted he had to go with them to Deaton’s later, for research purposes, so he, Scott, and Isaac took the Jeep to the vet’s office.

 

“Look,” Stiles said, “if my best friend and one of his freaky werewolf pals are suddenly connected in that weird mental bond, I want to know about it, too. And by the way, Scott, you could have told me earlier. I would have done research. Like, an entire week’s worth of research, all crammed into a few hours. I would have spent the past day and a half in the library, okay, because this is kind of a big deal.”

 

“Stiles,” Scott said, slightly cranky from lack of sleep. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. There was a game last night, and I was busy.”

 

“Is this about Allison?” Stiles asked, eyes on the road ahead of them. “Because I was hoping this wouldn’t happen. Just because she’s dating someone else doesn’t mean you have to start freaking out, and actually, you know, it might be good for you to start thinking about other people, too, because it’s been like three months since you broke up and—”

 

“Wait, Stiles, what? She’s dating someone else?” Scott’s stomach twisted. As much as he was over her, he didn’t like the idea of her seeing other people. It wasn’t like she belonged to him, but they’d dated for a while, and they’d been so in love. They’d had sex! And of course she could have sex with whoever she wanted but… well. Scott couldn’t help but feel those old pangs of jealousy.

 

 _Oh, gross, Scott,_ Isaac’s voice came complaining over the bond. _Could you not think about that? I don’t want to throw up in Stiles’s car._

 

 _I can’t help it!_ Scott thought back anxiously. _I’m just wondering. And you have to admit she’s pretty hot. It’s not like it’s that bad to think about._

 

 _She’s not my type,_ Isaac thought instantly. Then, as if directed at himself, _think about something else._

 

Scott was already over the mental conversation as Isaac scrambled to control his thoughts. He listened intently to Stiles’s on-going story.

 

“...saw them together outside the Beacon Hills Diner the other night. He was, like, one of those hulking types who probably hunts werewolves with her family for fun—”

 

“They’re not hunting anymore, Stiles,” Scott reminded him. “And just—don’t be mad at her. She can be with someone else. We’ve been broken up for months. I should probably move on, too.” Isaac’s heartbeat in the backseat increased; Scott wondered briefly what he was anxious about.

 

 _Just the usual,_ Isaac thought back. Somewhat wistfully, it seemed.

 

“Yeah, man, whatever,” Stiles said as they pulled into Deaton’s parking lot. “It’s hard to not have animosity toward someone whose granddaddy locked you in the basement for a night.”

 

 _With Erica and Boyd,_ Isaac’s voice added.

 

“Isaac,” Scott called, pulling the other boy from his guilty reverie. “Breathe.”

 

Isaac breathed. His thoughts evened out to a steady stream of consciousness as they entered Deaton’s office.

 

Dr. Deaton greeted them. “No Derek?”

 

“He’s brooding somewhere,” Stiles supplied. “We couldn’t wait for him to stop because we figured we should get this thing sorted out before we’re middle-aged.”

 

Deaton ignored him. “So... we’re still sharing thoughts?”

 

Together Scott and Isaac nodded. “It doesn’t work when one of us is sleeping,” Isaac said. “Or when one of us if thinking too fast.”

 

Deaton nodded. “I think I may have found out what happened between you.” He pulled a large, dusty book out from the shelf behind him. It was opened to a page in a different language, with a large diagram featuring two women with dotted lines connecting their heads. “I couldn’t find record of it occurring anywhere in the past few hundred years. The last recorded instance like what is happening between you two goes back to 1608, when two omegas teamed up to stay safe. They formed their own pack without an alpha and travelled together until one was badly wounded by a hunter, at which point her fellow omega, who was trained in healing, used an extreme form of pain removal to help ease her friend’s passing. Much like with the both of you, everyone was surprised when the wounded omega lived.” Dr. Deaton snapped the book shut.

 

“So we’re like... a pack of omegas?” Scott asked. He’d never considered Isaac an omega before, and from Isaac’s thoughts he could tell he hadn’t thought of himself that way, either.

 

“More of a pair,” Deaton said. “But essentially, yes. It’s been theorized that this sort of bond can only come from omegas looking to each other for survival. If one of you was desperate enough to put all of your strength into expediting the pain from the other, there’s already a strong sense of commitment between you. The mental bond is another way of helping the two of you survive when the odds are against you.”

 

Scott glanced at Isaac. He wore a frown, but his thoughts let Scott know that this was good news for him. He’d been concerned about never having a pack again. At least now he had Scott.

 

“There is no way to be sure how to make the bond go away,” Deaton continued. “But if I could wager a guess I’d say it goes back to balance in the universe. We’ve talked about this before, Scott: there are rules to play by, and certain things can’t be compromised. If Scott somehow found a way to save Isaac the way Isaac saved Scott, the mind reading should go away.” Deaton made his way back out front, leading the three boys toward the door. “Until then, I heard how well you boys did at your lacrosse game last night.” He winked at them. “Keep up the good work.”

 

“Wait, you guys did so well because you were _cheating_?” Stiles exclaimed, affronted. “How come Stiles never gets the cool superpowers? I’m the one who completely lacks athletic ability, I’m the one who needs them!”

 

“We know,” Isaac muttered. Stiles glared at him.

 

“You couldn’t have chosen less of a dickhead to share a brain with, Scott?” Stiles asked as he hopped back in the Jeep.

 

“I could have _not_ saved his life,” Isaac said, crawling into the backseat. “Would you have liked that better?”

 

 _Be nice_ , Scott thought.

 

Isaac raised one eyebrow. _I am being nice._

 

“If you two are having some sort of weird telepathic conversation right now,” Stiles said, “I want you to know that it’s making me uncomfortable.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott grumbled. “Just get us home, Stiles. We didn’t get any sleep last night—I need to crash.”

 

“ _Really_ ,” Stiles said, “I don’t need that much insight into your personal life. Whatever you and Lahey do in your spare time is completely, one hundred percent okay as long as you don’t even think of telling me about it—”

 

  
“Stiles, what?” Scott asked, confused. In the backseat Isaac’s heart had increased its pace in embarrassment. “What do you—”

 

Isaac’s thoughts were spinning , sure to disappear soon from Scott’s mind as they rushed through Isaac’s head faster and faster, but Scott did manage to catch one word: _fucking._

 

“You’re not serious,” Scott said, laughing. When Stiles only raised his eyebrows, Scott spluttered. “We were playing video games, you asshole. As if Isaac or I are even gay.”

 

 _God, he’s so fucking obtuse,_ Isaac thought.

 

 _Hey!_ Scott mentally exclaimed. _I learned that word yesterday, so I know you’re calling me stupid! And, what, wait, really? You’re gay? Like, gay gay? Since when are you gay?_  
  


 

 _Think the word “gay” one more time and I’m jumping out the fucking window and running home,_ Isaac warned. In the back of his head, though, he was still thinking about how blind Scott must have been to never have noticed it before. And about the one time he proved just how gay he was last year when he and that boy from an opposing lacrosse team met up after the game and—

 

“Oh, dude!” Scott cut Isaac's train of thought off before it even occurred to him what was happening. There was something about thinking about Isaac and sex at the same time that felt dangerous, somehow, like Scott was inching closer and closer to a fire, and soon he was going to get burned.

 

 _You did the same thing earlier with Allison,_ Isaac pointed out.

 

 _Okay, okay fine,_ Scott thought. _We’ll make a deal, then? I won’t think about Allison like that, and you won’t think about anyone else, either._

 

 _Whatever,_ Isaac thought.

 

 _Come on, Isaac. You know I don’t care. I was just surprised, is all._ Part of Scott wanted to turn around in his seat and comfort him, prove to Isaac that it was all right—but a larger part knew now was a bad time. Isaac was already on edge. Scott just needed to do what he could not to set him off.

 

Though Isaac was obviously trying to think back at Scott that it didn’t matter, anyway, a deluge of other thoughts came through instead. Rather than telling Scott the conversation was over, Isaac couldn't stop himself from thinking, _my dad would have killed me._

 

Stiles pulled the Jeep up in front of the McCall house. Scott swallowed heavily, thanked Stiles for the ride, and got out of the car. _You never deserved what he did to you, Isaac._

 

After a few moments of trying not to think angry things, Scott gave up. He watched Isaac's face as his hateful thoughts registred in the other boy's mind. They walked into the house together in silence, and Scott busied himself with putting dirty dishes in the sink in an attempt to ignore Isaac's thoughts, in an attempt to give him a small amount privacy.

 

"You don't have to hate him," Isaac said after a while of sitting on the counter, watching Scott do the dishes. "You're not an angry person. Don't turn mean for my father's sake."

 

"I would have killed him," Scott said, "if he killed you."

 

Isaac must have known he was telling the truth. It was written all over Scott's thoughts.

 

 _I took the bite because I thought he was going to kill me,_ Isaac thought. _He'd locked me in the freezer for six hours the night before. I didn't know where else to turn._

 

 _So you turned to Derek_ , Scott said. He tried to meet Isaac's eye, but the other boy was looking at the ground.

 

 _He said he would help me—he did help me. I don't know if I would be here, if there were no werewoves and no kanimas. I know you can hear my thoughts about what happened,_ Isaac's voice was small in Scott's head. _Am I a terrible person because I'm glad he's dead?_

 

"If you are," Scott said, putting down his drying rag and moving over the Isaac at the counter, "then so am I."

 

He put his arms around Isaac and held tight. He felt awful intruding into Isaac's head, knowing the other boy would never have shared this much information otherwise. Scott must have been a terrible friend to not know all this about Isaac—to not know why he took the bite, to not know he was gay, to not know he was still beating himself up over things that were in the past.

 

 _You're not a terrible friend_ , Isaac thought. His thoughts still danced around his father, but the words _he smells good_ were noted in the back of Isaac's mind.

 

Scott pulled away and grinned. "Thanks. Danny gave me this Armani stuff because I told him I liked how it smelled once, and I've been using it."

 

"Danny's nice," Isaac murmured absently, jumping off the counter to pick up where Scott left off on the dishes. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was craving coke. _Like usual_ , Scott thought.

 

"Lay off, McCall," Isaac said amusedly. "There are worse things to be addicted to."

 

Scott's first thought, true to seventeen-year-old boy form, was, _Like weird porn?_

 

Isaac barked out a laugh. "Yeah, exactly like weird porn. And they say I'm the one with the messed up head, I swear..."

 

******

 

The next day was Friday, which was somewhat of a miracle. As soon as they’d finished the dishes the night before, both boys had fallen asleep. No longer running on wisps of energy and caffeine, Scott and Isaac proved to be attentive students, actually taking notes in each class. And if every so often one of Isaac's repressed sarcastic thoughts floated into Scott's head and he had to choke back a snicker, it only proved how dedicated he was to his education that he refused to laugh out loud.

 

They were in Chemistry now, the only class they had together, and for the first time that day Scott was doubting his attempts to pay attention in class. Mr. Harris was in a worse mood than usual.

 

"And that," Harris said, slapping a pile of failed tests on his desk, "is why I hate children."

 

 _All the children except the middle-school girls you date,_ Isaac corrected. He was sitting at his normal lab table—next to Erica's empty seat, which filled him with such sadness that Scott wanted to reach across the room and wrap him in another hug.

 

"I should be disappointed by this," Harris said, gesturing to the pile of tests, "but I'm so used to it by now that I won't bother to pretend it's going to get better."

 

 _I bet he says the same thing about his reflection every morning,_ Isaac mused.

 

"Now," Harris said, "there was one A in this class."

 

 _Lydia Martin,_ Isaac supplied

 

“Lydia Martin, please come to the board," Mr. Harris said. Isaac gave himself a silent round of applause.

 

God, Harris was creepy. He stared at Lydia like she was some special sort of prize.

 

 _Prize jerk-off material, maybe?_ Isaac ventured, in response to Scott's thoughts.

 

 _Aw, that's nasty, dude,_ Scott thought, burying his head in his arm to stop a semi-amused, mostly disgusted laugh from bubbling to the surface. _I'm gonna be soft for a week trying to get that image out of my head._

 

Isaac's thoughts in response sounded something like a scrambled, _don't think about Scott's dick!_

 

 _Oh, sorry!_ Scott thought, somewhat frantically. _I didn't mean to scare you, dude. Stiles and I joke about it all the time, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable._

 

In his seat across the room, Isaac was blushing. Okay, so Isaac's family definitely hadn't been open about things like sex. It would make sense for him to have some residual embarrassment from that, especially if his father was homophobic, like Isaac said he was. He probably made Isaac associate sex with guilt, or something, so of course Isaac didn't like to think about it.

 

Which made this arrangement pretty fucking difficult for Scott, because every five minutes he had to stop himself from thinking about sex. And he liked thinking about sex. He liked thinking about sex in a variety of positions and under basically any circumstance.

 

 _You know, I'm sitting right here and I can hear everything you're thinking,_ Isaac informed him. He didn't seem annoyed though—if anything, he looked relieved. _And I'm not that fucked up, all right?_

  


In the back of Isaac's mind, a less voluntary part was quickly thinking, _right about forcing myself to keep those kinds of thoughts from my head. He can’t know._ Then, as it was prone to do, Issac's mind took off at top speed and silence came through the bond. Scott wasn't sure why he was panicking now, but he guessed it had something to do with talking about sex.

 

 _Anyway_ , Isaac mumbled into Scott's head, _when did you become a psychoanalyst?_

 

Harris was still lecturing in the front of the class. Lydia, having written and solved a combustion reaction on the board for Mr. Harris to revel in, had taken her seat.

 

_I guess around the time your thoughts infiltrated—Isaac, I can see you roll your eyes every time I use a new vocab word—anyway, around the time your thoughts infiltrated my mind I decided to start psychoanalyzing you. I think I'm doing a pretty good job so far._

 

Isaac's most prominent thought was, _You're not,_ but Scott could hear a smaller voice in the back of Issac's mind that was warm and happy that he and Scott were so close now.

 

_I wonder what a psychoanalyst would say about someone who lies to a person who can literally hear their thoughts._

 

_Probably that someone who thinks he could hear someone else's thoughts should be carted off to an institution._

 

"McCall!" Harris's annoyed tone swept through Scott and Isaac's mental conversation. "Maybe if you spent more time listening to me and less time thinking about your ex-girlfriend, you wouldn't have a C in my class!"

 

"I wasn't thinking about anyone, Mr. Harris," Scott replied. He was so agitated over Harris's comment that he could feel his claws poking out under his skin.

 

Mr. Harris said, "The day that's true I'll lose my job." He went back to his lecture looking smug.

 

 _No claws in class, Scott,_ Isaac chided. He spent a moment thinking about how he wished Harris wouldactually lose his job. Then he thought, _speaking of claws, it's the full moon on Wednesday._

 

 _Yup,_ Scott thought. _As if I need another thing to think about._

 

After Chemistry was lunch, and as the smell of rubbery burgers and soggy french fries filled his nose, another smell joined them: the smell of a wolf.

 

"Boyd," Scott murmured. His eyes swept the cafeteria for the other boy, and found him sitting alone. It was reminiscent of the days before Derek had recruited new members for his pack, when Boyd sat alone at lunch every day, invisible, like a ghost. It seemed like decades ago when Boyd was still a normal teenager, before he'd been bitten, abducted by the alpha pack, and then, eventually, saved by Scott and Derek's pack. Despite that time Boyd remained invisible to the other students in the cafeteria. But now, Scott saw him. "Look," he said, grabbing Stiles and Isaac, who had been walking behind him and arguing, by the shoulders. "Boyd's back."

 

Boyd must have heard Scott say his name, but he didn't look up from his meal. Without a word, Isaac walked up to his table.

 

While Scott knew that Isaac and Boyd were probably about to engage in an important conversation, he was also distinctly aware that the distraction of almost dying and getting a weird mind-bond with Isaac had caused him to ignore Stiles recently. Isaac would let him know what Boyd said later, anyway. So Scott pushed Isaac's thoughts to the back of his head, took a seat at his usual table with Stiles, and allowed himself to be pulled into conversation about whatever crossed Stiles's mind.

 

The topic today, like most days, was Lydia.

 

"She didn't actually say, like, 'Stiles, I want to date you,' but I think it was totally implied in the way she let me carry her books, so I really think she's starting to come around," Stiles said. "And after class she—ah, there he is."

 

Isaac collapsed next to Stiles at the lunch table. "Well, that went terribly."

 

"What did he say?" Stiles asked. "Is he mad at you? At us?"

 

"He's pretty mad at me, yeah," Isaac said. "But he's been mad at me for a while. We... had a falling out." His mind flashed back to Boyd walking in on Isaac and Erica fooling around, to his livid expression and shouts of _You did that on purpose!_

 

 _"_ Erica cheated on Boyd with you?"Scott asked, surprised. _I thought you were gay?_

 

 _"_ They weren't officially dating yet," Isaac defended, scrunching his nose in a way that was kind of cute, actually. "But Boyd doesn't seem to remember that part. Anyway, Scott, I prefer to think of myself as... open to new experiences." He flicked an eyebrow, and Scott, who was watching him with wide eyes, wasn't sure why his face was suddenly warm.

 

Stiles cleared his throat. "So he didn't say anything to you? Not even, like, 'hello,' or, 'get the hell out of my face, you hulking werewolf asshole,' or like, 'come one step closer and I'm going to punch you in your stupid face'—"

 

"Actually, he said something like that last one," Isaac admitted. He didn't want to say the truth, which was that Boyd had asked why he still cared about Erica, now that she had died and could no longer flirt with him. Through the mental bond Scott could tell how much that had hurt Isaac—even if he looked for all the world like he was completely unperturbed by the conversation.

 

Isaac was very good at wearing masks.

 

And according to Isaac's thoughts, Scott was the only person to ever seen through them, even before the mental bond.

 

"So that's it?" Stiles asked in disbelief. "He's not going to telling you how he is, or what he's been doing with Derek since we saved him from the alpha pack? You know what, you werewolf types are completely unappreciative."

 

"Look, he's upset," Isaac said. "He loved Erica, and now she's... she's gone." He stared at the wall behind Scott.   _It's not easy to love someone you know you can never have. I already ruined things for him once, ruined her memory for him. He'll talk to us when he's ready, if he's ready at all._ Isaac thought through the situation slowly, as if convincing himself that leaving Boyd alone was the best course of action.

 

 _I think you're probably right,_ Scott supplied.

 

 _I wish I could help him,_ Isaac thought. His mind was spinning, but not to the point where Scott couldn't discern his thoughts. _More than anything. I shouldn't have fucked around with Erica, it was so fucking stupid, and Boyd was right, I did it on purpose to see if I could, and I wish I didn't have to tell Scott any of this because it's really embarrassing, but he's in my head and he can hear it, and you're so nice, Scott, you're so fucking nice, and you would never do that to one of your friends, but I did because I'm a jerk, a fucking piece of shit just like dad always said, and—_

 

"Isaac. Isaac!" Scott's voice was louder than it needed to be; he was practically shouting. He was desperate to break Isaac out of his thoughts, though, even as they span faster and faster around his head. "Calm down." Isaac didn't even look at him, staring down at his hands as he silently crushed himself in his own guilt. Scott reached across the table and grabbed Isaac's hand; across the table, blue eyes went wide. "You didn't do anything wrong, Isaac. You said they weren't even dating. And even if they had been, there's no way... you can't—you shouldn't blame yourself—"

 

"It's not your fault Erica is dead," Stiles said, catching on quickly. "And it isn't your fault if Boyd is still mad at you for something that happened months ago. Okay? Come on, wolfboy, I'm trying here."

 

 _He's right,_ Scott thought. He was still holding Isaac's hand; it was clammy, and people were probably staring, but Scott couldn't let go. _You need to stop blaming yourself. There was no way you could have helped them. Either of them._

 

 _I could have gone with them,_ Isaac thought shakily.

 

"If you went with them, you might be dead, too," Scott said. He gripped the hand harder. "And stop thinking that would be okay, because it wouldn't be."

 

"This conversation would be a lot easier for me if more of it were happening out loud," Stiles said. "Look, Isaac. Can you listen to me and hold Scott's hand at the same time? Yes? Okay, great. Boyd is a tough nut to crack. I know that because he was my lab partner in bio freshman year, and he asked for a new partner twice. A week. For the entire year. But by the last week of school we did a lab together, and I didn't get frog organs on him, and we got an A, and he even said a few words to me."

 

Isaac looked as if he was considering wringing Stiles's neck.

 

Hastily, Stiles continued, "Uh, so the point is that Boyd will come around. Eventually. And even if he doesn't, man, sometimes you just have to dissect the frog on your own. Or with Scott, because I'm sure he would help you. He would probably eat the frog if he knew that was what you wanted—"

 

"Okay, Stiles, that's enough," Scott interrupted. His cheeks were warming again.

 

Isaac attempted to hide his appreciation for the other boys, and failed miserably. A steady stream of affectionate thoughts passed through the bond. Scott chose not to comment on them.

 

He wondered if Isaac still would have saved him if he had known the punishment would be sharing thoughts. Minds were supposed to be personal places, after all, and Scott couldn’t help but feel like he was intruding. Not that he could stop Isaac's thoughts from coming into his head—even if he could, Scott wasn’t sure he would give up access to Isaac's mind, despite the fact that Isaac most certainly wanted him to. Secretly, Scott loved the hidden parts of Isaac’s mind that no one was allowed to see. He loved the constant confirmations that he could see through the disguise Isaac put on for the rest of the world. Scott felt like he was approaching something powerful and beautiful when he saw the sides of Isaac no one else could to see. He just wished they were made visible to him without supernatural circumstances.

 

Isaac stared at Scott as he thought that. When Scott met his gaze, Isaac tentatively tightened the grip on his hands.

 

Isaac cleared his throat. He looked back and forth between Scott and Stiles and, as soon as the thought entered his mind, if he couldn't stop himself from saying it, confirmed, "Best friends?"

 

Stiles clapped his around the shoulders. "Yeah, man. Welcome to the pack."

 

Somewhat clumsily, Isaac detached his hand from Scott's to sweep through his tresses. He was trying to control his face, to stop himself from giving too much away, but even Stiles could see the unprecedented happiness Isaac felt. He was thinking about a song he'd heard the previous week, something about everything belonging somewhere, and for the first time Isaac understood the song's meaning.

 

Scott kind of wanted to hold Isaac's hand again.

 

"Now that we're a big happy family, we need a celebratory game night," Stiles said. "Get ready to cry big, fat werewolf tears when I beat your ass at Monopoly, Lahey."

 

Isaac's only response was a confident smirk.

 

******

 

As it turned out, Monopoly was less easy to cheat at than lacrosse. Even with Isaac's gameplan in his head, so much of the game relied on what the dice rolled that Scott wasn't able to stop Isaac's money from piling up. In the end Stiles beat both of them by a landslide, whooping about his superior skills while Isaac looked on with grudging defeat, and Scott watched the two of them argue over the banking system with a smile.

 

Stiles got up to put a movie in, and Scott collapsed next to Isaac on the sofa. "You don't have to put that away," Scott said, watching Isaac as he leaned over the coffee table in front of them to clean up piles of Monopoly money and tiny green houses, "I'll do it later."

 

 _It's not a big deal,_ Isaac thought absently. He liked cleaning. It had always been the one thing he could do right. He'd never been beaten for cleaning; sometimes, when his father was already angry or drunk, Isaac would clean the whole house, and his father, satisfied, wouldn't hit him that night. _Stop with the pitying thoughts, McCall._

 

"Not pitying," Scott murmured, smiling as Isaac finished cleaning the game and relaxed against the cushions. He felt a lot of things about Isaac—admiration, friendship, pride in how strong he was, and myriad things Scott couldn't even really identify, things that made him inch closer to Isaac on the couch—but pitying was never one of them.

 

Isaac looked at him as if he didn't know what to say. His thoughts circled around the fact that Scott was sitting very close to him.

 

"The movie is starting," Stiles said, louder than necessary, as he collapsed next to Scott on the couch.

 

Three heads turned simultaneously toward the television. It was some comedy movie that had Stiles laughing hysterically and throwing back popcorn like it was air. Most of the humor was lofty, the kind people like Stiles and Lydia got but that went straight over Scott's head.

 

The same way he had in Chemistry class earlier that day, Issac kept a running mental commentary, and Scott found it funnier than any of the movie's punchlines. _Dude,_ Scott thought, _Why don't you ever say this stuff out loud? You're hilarious._

 

 _Never really had anyone to say it to,_ Isaac thought. Another one of those things he hadn't meant to tell anyone. _Not until Erica, anyway. She was the first friend I ever really had. Sometimes in class we would have competitions, see which of us could make the other laugh harder by whispering insults at people._ Scott glanced at Isaac next to him; he was looking at the TV, but there was a wistful smile on his face. _Anyway, I don't usually say them out loud. I'm trying to not be such an asshole._

 

Scott snorted. _Why?_

 

 _Because you're so nice to everyone,_ Isaac thought, then immediately blushed. _I mean, I just. Yeah. I guess I can't lie like this._

 

Stiles guffawed at something in the movie. Isaac had his eyes trained to the television, too, but Scott knew he wasn't watching it. Without thinking about it, he ruffled a hand through Isaac's hair. "Just be yourself, man. I don't care if you're an asshole."

 

Stiles shushed him. Isaac blushed harder; Scott's hand in his hair felt good.

 

 _You really loved Erica, huh?_ Scott wondered after a while.

 

 _She was the only girl I was ever really interested in,_ Isaac admitted. _Other than Lydia Martin freshman year, but I think everyone has had a crush on Lydia Martin._

 

Scott thought of Allison, of how strange it was to feel so much for someone and then have it all disappear. Once she's confessed to Scott that she and Lydia had kissed in eighth grade, so maybe there was some truth to Isaac's idea that everyone had a crush on her at some point. Scott never had, but the thought of her and Allison kissing had given him jerk off material for a week.

 

 _Is it impossible for you to go five minutes without thinking about sex?_ Isaac wondered.

 

 _Dude, I haven't had any alone time in four days. That's like a new record since I turned twelve._ Scott thought, _You gotta be suffering just as much as I am._

 

Isaac's mind flew to the night before. Apparently after Scott fell asleep, he _did_ get some alone time. And he didn't want Scott to know about it, because he was slightly panicked, trying with little success to steer his thoughts in another direction.

 

Scott just laughed, heedless of Stiles's request that he shut up. _Whatever, Isaac, good for you. Glad to hear you actually have a sex drive, I was beginning to worry._ Isaac punched him in the arm. _Ouch!_ Scott snickered. _You should be nice to me. Maybe I'll even do you a favor and go to bed early tonight, so you can have some more Isaac time—_

 

 _Maybe I won't bother waiting for you to fall asleep next time,_ Isaac threatened, glaring as he simultaneously gave Scott the finger.

 

Something about that idea, about listening to Isaac's thoughts as he got off, made Scott suddenly uncomfortable. He felt like he was approaching flames, again, like he was getting closer to something dangerous.

 

"What are you kiddies doing over there?" Stiles asked, throwing popcorn kernels at the two of them. "This is the best part of the movie."

 

Scott turned toward the television without another glance at either of his friends, but he could hear Isaac wondering about him for a while after that.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, after waking up sprawled all over Scott's living room with popcorn littering the floor, Stiles went home to work on a research paper Scott and Isaac were outwardly avoiding. There wasn't much to do—Isaac briefly suggested going to see Derek to find out if there had been any disturbances lately, any new wolves or hunters in the region, but this prospect didn't appeal to either of them. Instead of doing homework, like they should, or cleaning the house, like Isaac tried to, they settled on exploring their mental bond.

  


They ran around the woods for a while and found that they could hear each others’ thoughts just as clearly when they were transformed. Isaac tackled Scott into the ground for thoughts that mocked Isaac's wolf form; Scott returned the favor when Isaac laughed at Scott for stepping in a disgustingly large pile of bear shit. The bond stayed when they ran, even when they sprinted so fast birds flee the trees around them, so that by the time the afternoon came and the sky was turning a dark purple they had spent the entire day talking but hadn't opened their mouths to speak once.

  


Scott would have preferred talking to using the bond, but Isaac, despite occasions when it was clear he was purposefully detouring his thoughts away from things he didn't want Scott to know, was enjoying the mental communication. It was easier, he thought, when he didn't have to actually admit anything, but Scott could still tell what he was feeling.

  


The final test was for Isaac to run as far away as he could without starting to feel tired and see if the bond still held. It did. The ancient omega magic was strong enough to stand for miles; even when Isaac was three towns over his thoughts were discernible. They were less frequent, but Scott was able to tell what he was thinking almost as well as when Isaac was right beside him. Eventually the sun began to dim from the sky, and, accepting that nothing could interfere with the strength of the bond, they went back to Scott’s house.

  


Melissa McCall was at work when they got back to the house. Scott unlocked the door with a key from under the mat and grinned broadly at Isaac. “I think Stiles left his DVDs here. Wanna watch a movie?”

  


“Nah,” Isaac murmured. “I’m just gonna go in the guest room, okay?”

  


When Isaac had first moved into the McCall house, he would disappear into his new room for hours at a time. It had always shrouded Isaac in an air of mystery: Scott wasn’t used to spending time with someone so introverted. He needed constant stimulation and company from the people around him, whereas every once in a while Isaac needed to get away from other humans just to breathe. It had taken Scott a month to realize that Isaac wasn’t upset or lonely when he wandered into the guest room alone; he was a different kind of person than Scott, and sometimes he simply needed to be alone.

  


As much as he loved being so connected with one of his best friends, Isaac needed alone time. Over the past five days he hadn’t gotten any because Scott had been in his head, and though Isaac had tried to keep it from Scott to keep from hurting his feelings, he couldn’t keep hiding how mentally and physically drained he was.

  


Scott still felt slightly guilty about intruding all over Isaac’s personal space—but if he were honest with himself, he’d always wanted to know what exactly Isaac thought about in his time alone. Now that he had the chance, he was excited to see what would happen.

  


He heard Isaac snort in the guest room. _Excited,_ he thought. _Right. You’re a piece of work, Scott._

  


Okay, so it wasn’t that exciting. Scott could see that now. After two hours of flipping through television channels and texting Stiles stupid pictures of himself, it became clear that Isaac didn’t do anything mysterious or enticing when he spent time alone. Mostly he just thought about his family.

  


Scott had never asked Isaac about his mom or his brother; he’d always considered it something Isaac could bring up if he wanted to, but knowing how private the other boy usually was, he didn’t want to make Isaac uncomfortable by mentioning it.

  


Isaac never talked about them—but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about them. In fact, he spent two hours wondering about them and praying to them. He told them about the mental bond he had with Scott, about how Scott was his best friend, now. He told them about how he was doing in school and how life was going as a werewolf. The full moon was on Wednesday, he thought, and he was glad they had never been around to see him transform.

  


Scott tried not to listen to Isaac’s thoughts—he really did. But they were there, right in front of him, like an open wound that someone else had already salted, and he found it difficult to stay on the downstairs couch when he knew what was going through Isaac’s mind upstairs. He thought to Isaac, more than once, that if he wanted company Scott would gladly join him upstairs. Isaac thought back, more than once, that if he wanted anyone’s company it would be Scott’s, but for right now he would rather be alone.

  


Unsettled, Scott went for a run. He didn’t like being so close to Isaac’s pain and not being able to  heal it. Even if the wounds were old now. Even if they probably felt a lot like the way Scott felt when he thought about his dad.

  


Before Isaac came downstairs later that night, he told his mom that he thought he might be becoming part of a new family. When he walked into the kitchen, where Melissa was making spaghetti for the three of them, Scott wrapped him in a hug.

  


******

Scott woke up the next morning to a steady stream of noise coming from the kitchen. Waffles, he sniffed. Sunday waffles with chocolate chips and strawberries and whipped cream. He smiled into his pillow.

  


Downstairs, Isaac and Melissa were having a conversation about school. She said she had never been a good writer, either, that English had always been her least favorite class. Science she had loved. Math had been all right. With a small laugh, Isaac confessed that he wasn’t very good in any of those subjects.

  


Scott couldn't help the smile that crossed his face at the thought of his mom in the kitchen talking to Isaac like he was the second son she never had. Another sniff told him the waffles weren't done yet, which meant Scott could stay in bed for a little longer. He listened to their easy talking in the kitchen and stretched in bed, completely content.

  


Isaac's werewolf nose made him naturally adept at making waffles; he smelled the exact moment the waffles were perfectly cooked, and Scott didn't move from his bed until he heard the waffle iron open and then close again.

  


When he walked into the kitchen, Isaac jumped. "I didn't hear you. Or your, you know," Isaac gestured to his head.

  


"Just woke up," Scott said through a yawn.

  


_Liar_ , Isaac thought as he plunked down a plate of chocolate-strawberry waffles in front of him. _You were just waiting for breakfast. You were so calm the bond felt like you were still asleep._

  


Scott shrugged. _I liked listening to you talk to my mom,_ he admitted. Isaac raised his eyebrows. _It's not weird!_

  


_It's a little weird._

  


All right, it was kinda weird. Scott wasn't sure, either, why it made him so happy, but it did and he wasn't going to look into the reasoning behind that. Scott was also not looking into the fact that Isaac was restarting the family tradition of Sunday waffles, after he had learned how much they used to mean to Scott. Or the fact that his mom was smiling at them like they were her two favorite people in the world—and actually, now that Scott thought about it, they probably were.

  


Which was kind of weird, since she'd only known Isaac for a few months, and she was aware that he was a werewolf, but for some reason she still liked him more than most people.

  


Isaac picked up the syrup bottle and bit back a smile. _Maybe it's my charming good looks._

  


_Probably,_ Scott agreed. Then, when Isaac looked at him with shocked wide-eyes and dropped the syrup bottle on the table by accident, Scott realized it was probably the wrong thing to say. _Not in a creepy way, dude, she's my mom. And also, that's pretty gross._

  


Isaac just watched him in disbelief for a long moment. When he finally looked away it was only to assure the Universe that _this huge cosmic joke isn't fucking funny anymore._

  


Scott thought Isaac was acting pretty cranky for someone surrounded by fresh waffles.

  


"Isaac was just telling me about how he doesn't like most of his classes," Melissa said behind a mouthful of waffle, "but, funnily enough, he still does his homework."

  


Scott groaned; Isaac snickered.

  


_I thought you were happy I'm part of the family now?_ Isaac thought, trying not to laugh.

  


_I'm changing my mind if she starts to compare us,_ Scott warned, completely cognizant of Isaac's ability to see just how much of a lie that was.


	5. Chapter 5

It was almost a week now since they first started sharing memories, and already it had changed their friendship. They enjoyed the closeness it instilled in them, how easily they could communicate, and both boys found special comfort in how well they got along. For Isaac, with his past history of testy friendships, this was relatively new, and even Scott, who would give anything in the world to keep Stiles around for the rest of his life, felt there was something special about how he and Isaac were with each other. It almost felt like when Scott was beginning to befriend Allison, only… well, that didn’t make a lot of sense, because Isaac wasn’t a girl. He decided it was best to push these thoughts away rather than risk Isaac cluing in to Scott's confusion.

 

When Isaac came into his room Monday morning to tell Scott he had to get up before they were both late for school, Scott, in a fit of embarrassment over Isaac seeing him in only the boxers he had slept in, fell out of his bed. Luckily for him Isaac seemed equally flustered. Scott hurriedly stepped into clean clothes while Isaac threw him a slice of toast, and neither of them acknowledged Scott’s previous near-nudity. More than anything Isaac seemed desperate to forget what he saw, and while Scott wasn’t really sure why he was hurt by that, he chalked it up to damaged pride. He’d always thought he had nice abs, after all; he didn’t appreciate Isaac reacting to them like his naked chest was the plague.

  


_It’s not always about you, you know,_ Isaac thought to Scott from the back of Stiles’ car. _Also, you’re being weird._

  


Scott sighed. He knew he was being weird. Maybe it had something to do with the approaching full moon. He always lost his inhibitions the day of the moon; maybe he was losing the logical part of his brain early this month.

  


_Logical?_ Isaac snorted. _I think you lost that part a while ago._

  


_Don’t bully me, Lahey,_ Scott thought back before ideas about the rest of the day filled him brain. He felt scatter-brained; it was just one of those times when, either because his day had had a weird start or for some other reason, he wasn’t thinking very clearly.

  


That must have been why, when he sat in economics and Isaac in French class later on, he had such a strange reaction to Isaac’s thoughts.

  


Isaa was obviously trying to hide the thoughts from Scott—though not as much as whatever made his thoughts quicksilver so they weren’t intelligible at all, so he failed to keep them hidden.

  


The first thought was, _Danny’s ass in those jeans, damn._

  


Scott was confused. What about Danny’s ass in his jeans? Was there a stain on them?

  


When Isaac’s second poorly hidden thought— _fuck, and his biceps in that shirt—_ came through the mental bond, Scott was shocked.

  


Danny? Really? Well, Scott supposed he was attractive enough. Stiles certainly used to think so. But for Isaac to be thinking about that… Scott was suddenly uncomfortable.

  


A strange anger stirred in Scott’s chest. Danny’s biceps probably weren’t even as big as his.

  


Isaac’s surprised voice came over the bond. _Scott, are you jealous?_

  


_What? No!_ Scott thought back quickly. Of course he wasn’t jealous. He just wanted to assert his own masculinity, or something. Prove that he had the biggest biceps of all. It had nothing to do with Danny—and certainly nothing to do with Isaac.

  


_Whatever, dude,_ Isaac thought. He was clearly confused—and, if Scott was reading his thoughts right, oddly hopeful. Hopeful for what, Scott wasn’t sure. To be honest, at this point he just wanted to go home. And it was only Monday.

  


_It’s going to be such a long week,_ Scott thought to himself.

  


_You’re telling me,_ Isaac thought back. _And it’s only going downhill from here._

  


******

The rest of the day passed in a hectic whirlpool. Scott, confused about the feelings that stirred up every time he thought of Isaac—which was basically all the time—was trying with little success to figure out what was going on. He was pretty sure he was doing a good job of burying the thoughts, because Isaac hadn’t acknowledged them yet, so he continued to shove them under ideas about tomorrow’s history test and Allison’s new boyfriend.

  


Eventually he decided the best course of action would be to talk to Stiles about it, so at the end of the day he said goodbye to Isaac, who was going to walk home, and hopped into the passenger’s side of Stiles’ Jeep.

  


“Ah, Scott,” Stiles said as he jammed the key into the ignition, “here at last to ask me about your deeply confusing feelings for Isaac.”

  


Shocked, Scott stammered, “No, I’m—what? How did you know?”

  


Jeeze, it was hard to hide thoughts from someone who was literally in your head. Scott heard Isaac think, _why so surprised, McCall?_ and tried not to give anything away. Maybe if he started getting really panicked, he could think too quickly for Isaac to hear him…

  


_Nice try, Scott. I can still hear you. If you really want me to I can try to ignore your thoughts, scintillating as they are. Hopefully that will work. We both deserve a little privacy, right?_

  


_Yeah! Yeah, please do that. Just for a while. I mean, it might not be perfect, but… yeah, privacy. Privacy would be nice._

  


_Articulate,_ Isaac thought back. _Okay, sure. And the ignoring will commence… now._

  


“How did I know?” Stiles said, as Scott clued back into their conversation. “Seriously, Scott? You aren’t subtle. Plus you zone out every two minutes to talk to the guy in your head. Like just now. So, yeah, it started to worry me that my best friend was replacing me until I realized that the only time this has happened before—not with the mental bond, obviously, but with the zoning out and the ignoring me—don’t give me that face, you know it’s true—was when you had the hots for Allison. From there it was pretty easy to figure out who you were chasing after. Also, this is the first time you're without him for the first time in, like, a week. So I figured something was up.”

  


“But I…” Scott frowned. “I’m not gay?” He didn’t mean to make it come out as a question.

  


“You don’t have to be gay to like a guy,” Stiles pointed out. When Scott attempted to interrupt, Stiles cut him off.  “Yes, you do."

  


"I do what? I didn't say anything!"

  


"You were thinking," Stiles began, and then in a low-pitched, mocking voice, "'No, Stiles, I don't like Isaac! We're just friends!' But you do like him. I can tell. And in never wrong about these things. Well, sometimes I'm wrong. But not right now."

  


Scott frowned. "I mean, I always want to spend time with him... and I like when he laughs at my jokes... and I think he smells really good... but couldn't that jury mean we're, like, good friends or something?"

  


"We're good friends, Scott," Stiles said. "Do you think _I_ smell really good?"

  


"I've never really thought about it," Scott said.

  


"Exactly."

  


"Oh my god," Scott muttered. "I like Isaac? I like Isaac. You really think I like Isaac?"

  


Stiles rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Scott. I do. Don't you feel that way, too, though?"

  


"I don't know," Scott sighed. "Maybe. I get warm whenever I think about him. But I've never liked another guy before." He blushed. "This is weird."

  


"It's not weird," Stiles said. "I mean, I would have thought you would have gone for, like, Derek, at least. But I can understand it. You see into the deepest parts of Isaac’s being, or something. You want to touch his dick. It’s not really that surprising.”

  


“What?!” Scott said, whacking Stiles in the arm. “How is this not surprising to you? This is totally weird for me! I mean, not weird that I like Isaac… it makes sense, I guess. I just didn’t think I was… bi, or whatever.”

  


“Maybe you aren’t,” Stiles said cryptically, as he pulled his car up in front of Scott’s house.

  


“Jeeze, Stiles,” Scott let out an exasperated laugh. “You aren’t making this easy for me.”

  


“Yes I am.”

  


“Okay, fine, you kind of are.” Scott paused for a moment. “Actually, this is significantly less weird than most of the other things that have happened to me in Beacon Hills. I’m still Scott. Scott the werewolf who likes a dude. But only because the dude is sarcastic and sassy and helpful and funny—”

  


“Okay, okay!” Stiles said. “He isn’t that great, all right? Remember all those times he tried to fight you?”

  


“Mmm,” Scott murmured. It seemed like so far away now. It didn't change anything.

  


Stiles faked throwing up. “C’mon, man. You’re getting gross all over my car.”

  


Scott laughed as he threw open the door. “Whatever, dude,” he said. “I’ll text you later!”

  


"Yeah, yeah," Stiles muttered, but he couldn’t hide the smile on his face.

  


"Wait!" Scott said hurriedly, just before he slammed the Jeep's door shut. "What should I do?"

  


Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Well, Scott, there are a few different ways you could approach this. You could go for the classic route and jump him—"

  


"No! I—what if he doesn't like me back?" Scott said nervously.

  


"You're acting like a freshman," Stiles informed him. "Listen, Scott,  if I had to put money on it I'd bet Isaac likes you just as much as you like him."

  


"Really?" Scott asked hopefully. He couldn't help the grin that was forming on his lips.

  


"Yes, really. First of all, I've never seen him as happy as he has been since you guys became close, and I mean even before the bond when he was just sharing your house, not your head. Also, I think I saw him check you out once, but that might have been because you’d just sat in paint. In any case, I say go for it."

  


Scott's smile began to fade. "But that's the thing, Stiles. We live in the same house. If I tell him what I'm feeling and he doesn't feel the same... that would be weird. Really weird. Maybe I should just wait it out."

  


Stiles rubbed his chin, as if deep in thought.. "Do what you gotta do, man. But hey, tomorrow's the full moon anyway, maybe you'll go nuts and lick his face or something, you know?"

  


Scott rolled his eyes. "You're right, Stiles," he said. "There's always that."

  


******

A minute later when Scott entered the house, Isaac was watching television, long limbs sprawled out on the downstairs couch. There were headphones on his ears, and the music was blasting so loudly from them that Scott could hear Isaac before he saw him.

  


"Oh, there you are," Isaac shouted, fumbling to turn the music down. "I was just wondering if I had to go running through the woods to find you again." He rubbed his ears, which must have hurt from the music. “I blasted angry music and tried to watch TV at the same time. The music was so loud I couldn’t even hear myself think, so your private little thoughts are safe.”

  


"Ha," Scott said, awkwardly. Something about the situation made him feel like his body was too big for him. He sat down in a chair near the couch. "I was just talking to Stiles."

  


"About Allison?" Isaac asked nonchalantly.

  


"Uh—Allison?" Scott asked, confused. "Why?"

  


"No reason," Isaac muttered. "Like I said, I couldn’t really hear your thoughts, but I picked  up on a few things. Seems like you’re confused about someone, and since I know you were thinking about Allison and her new boyfriend earlier, I just figured, you know. Maybe you underestimated whether or not you were really over her." He sighed. He looked distraught, let down—but through the mental bond, Scott couldn't pick out what it was about. Was it possible that Isaac…? But no. What was the point of this thing if he couldn't even properly read the other boy's mind? "But it's none of my business. Anyway, I have homework and stuff to do, now that I can hear myself think again, so I’ll be in my room."

  


Scott frowned. "Okay. Just... Let me know if you need anything."

  


Isaac didn't come out of his room for the rest of the night. Flabbergasted by his somber attitude, Scott asked Isaac over and over if he was all right—to the point where Isaac's growl at the question echoed through the house, and Melissa finally told Scott to stop whatever he was doing to Isaac.

  


_As if I have a clue what I'm doing wrong_ , Scott thought. Clearly it was something, though, because Isaac didn't even acknowledge the thought.

  


*******

  


On the morning before the full moon Scott woke up restless. He hadn 't slept well the night before; he was troubled by too many things. Apart from the obvious, away from Isaac's sudden moodiness and the possibly never-ending state of the mental bond, was the fact that tonight was a full moon, which means Scott and Isaac won't be the only wolves roaming around Beacon Hills.

  


Scott couldnt remember much from the dream hed been having before he woke up, but he faintly recalled the presence of an enormous bald wolf, the same one who had almost murdered Scott a week ago.

  


He was trying not to freak out about it. It was only a dream, after all. People have nightmares all the time, and most of those nightmares don't amount to anything more than a stressed out subconscious.

  


_Just breathe_ , Isaac thought, a room over. _Take deep breaths. Then do ten push-ups. It relieves the panic._

  


_Is that what you do when you have bad dreams?_ Scott asked before he could stop himself.

  


_No,_ Isaac thought. _I do one hundred push-ups. But we don't want you to hurt yourself, so..._

  


Scott threw his pillow at the wall.  Isaac snickered in response.

  


_You're so,_ Isaac began, then immediately stopped himself.

  


_What?_ Scott wondered, curious.

  


_Nothing. Shit_. Isaac thought hurriedly. His brain hummed a litany of _stop, stop, stop_.

  


Scott frowned. _We should get ready for school,_ he said, deciding not to push Isaac into saying what was on his mind. Maybe it was the approaching moon, but the boy seemed dangerous.

  


After a moment Isaac thought, _I’ll meet you outside._ He took the stairs four at a time, as if he couldn’t get away fast enough.


	6. Chapter 6

Isaac was tense all day, and it was contagious. It was usually difficult to concentrate in school on the day of the full moon, but with Isaac’s high-strung attitude electrifying their mental bond it was nearly impossible. Isaac was following a pattern: he would try, at the beginning of each period, to pay attention, but as soon as he lost his focus his mind wandered, always back to the same thing.

  


The problem was, Scott had no idea what that thing was. He had a few ideas, some guesses about why Isaac was always trying to hide his feelings for someone, and why he’d asked about Allison a few days before, but there was no definitive answer. The mysterious _something_ that hid under the surface of their bond, which Isaac was still trying to bury, was exhausting both of them. And whenever Scott wondered about it Isaac's anxiety would increase even more. As it was, every ten minutes or so Isaac would think very loudly, _DON’T THINK ABOUT IT_ , and every time he did Scott would be so startled by the unexpected violent shouting in his head that he would jump out of his seat.

  


Then people would look at him weirdly, and it was all Isaac’s fault.

  


_Dude, shut up,_ Scott thought toward the end of seventh period. _Seriously. Just calm down._

  


_Don’t tell me to calm down,_ Isaac thought. _Hard enough having one werewolf in my head during the full moon._

  


_Tell me about it_. Scott rubbed his aching skull. It was probably even harder for Isaac than it was for him, since Scott had been a wolf longer. _Look, maybe we should just go home early. We’ll ask Stiles to ditch with us and he can drive us to Derek’s place or something._

  


_Fuck_ , Isaac thought. _So fucking nice. I swear to God._ _How am I supposed to fucking ignore it?_

  


_Ignore what?_ Scott thought. _What is going on?_ It was both an aimless plea for an answer and a question directed at Isaac. _Seriously, Isaac, what?_

  


_Fucking horny,_ Isaac thought, followed by a string of curse words and a flood of embarrassed thoughts. _I mean I’m—not for you, or, I’m, it’s the full moon, I’m just on edge, I’m not thinking about you—_

  


Scott sighed aloud. The girl sitting next to him inched away. _Isaac, you aren’t making any sense. Is this about that secret you’re always trying to keep from me? Because you can tell me._ Scott couldn’t help the other things running through his head, the ideas about what Isaac could be trying to hide.

  


Isaac ignored his speculations, though. He was still having a mental freak-out, further proven when Isaac thought, _Shit_ , followed by a jumble of thoughts that sent crazed echoes around Scott’s head. He was changing—that much Scott could gather. He couldn’t tell how much of Isaac’s wolf side was being revealed to his classmates, whether it was just his claws or something more, but he knew he had to get Isaac out of the building now.

  


“Uh, coach,” Scott said, shooting out of his seat. “I have to, um, go to the nurse.”

  


Coach Finstock glared at Scott for interrupting his lecture. “That’s fine, McCall, but next time raise your hand. We have a system here, you know!” His voice followed Scott out of the classroom and into the hallway.

  


_Isaac, where are you?_ Scott asked desperately.

  


_Computer lab_ , Isaac responded. Then, because he seemed to finally realize what was going on, he said, surprised, _you’re coming to get me?_

__  
  


_We need to get out of here_ , Scott thought, rushing through the hallway. _Both of us._

  


He entered the computer lab without thinking about how he would get Isaac out of the room. Twenty faces turned toward him expectantly, but all Scott saw was Isaac’s wide eyes.

  


“The office sent me to get Isaac,” Scott lied.

  


“Go ahead,” the teacher muttered. “Isaac?” she said, looking around. Isaac stood up. “Oh,that one. Yes, you can take him.”

  


Trying not to roll his eyes, Isaac hurried after Scott.

  


_Where are we going?_ Isaac wondered to himself.

  


It wasn’t directed at him, but Scott answered anyway. _Outside. Away from other people. After that, I don’t know._

  


They escaped the school without being stopped, and it wasn’t until they’d run far enough away that they’d reached woods—and far enough, also, that some of Isaac’s anxiety had fallen away—that Scott stopped running.

  


The part of the woods they ended up in was silent.  Usually boisterous with birds, the trees around them were quiet. Scott couldn’t even hear the sound of insects crawling in the dirt; it was as if all life had left the vicinity.

  


_Creepy,_ Isaac thought. Aloud he said, “This is weird. The woods are usually pretty loud.”

  


“It is,” Scott murmured. Something niggled in the back of his head, some distant memory where the woods had also been silent. But that wasn’t important now. He whirled on Isaac. “Also, I can hear you hoping I don’t notice you changing the subject away from what just happened.”

  


_Fuck. Stupid mind shit._

  


“And I can hear you getting upset that I caught you at it!” Scott laughed. “Seriously, dude, this is crazy. You have all these, like, weird little secrets that you’ve been hiding from me and… I mean, honestly, you’re doing a good job, clearly, because I’m still not positive what’s bugging you. But after that whole thing where you almost transformed in school, we need to talk about what happened. I’m pretty oblivious, Isaac, but I know something’s up with you.”

  


“It’s nothing,” Isaac said, even as his mind assured Scott of the opposite. His thoughts were speeding up again. All the stress that had drifted away after they left school came back in full force.

  


Scott sighed. Obviously Isaac wasn’t going to admit what was wrong, but by this point Scott thought he might have an idea of what it was. Scott wasn’t blind enough to miss the feelings Isaac had for someone, and there weren’t very many people that could be…

 

“Isaac, if you tell me what you’re trying to hide, I’m sure whatever it is will just strengthen our friendship—”

  


“Allison?” Isaac asked, dumbfounded. “You think—you think I want to be with Allison? That’s what you think I’m hiding from you? _That’s_ my big secret?” _You fucking oblivious idiot_ , his mind unhelpfully added.

  


“Well it makes sense!” Scott defended. “You’ve been trying to hide how you feel about someone, I figured that much out, and you asked me if I was talking to Stiles about her, so I figured you were trying to see if you could, you know, make a move—”

  


“Scott,” Isaac was shocked. “I told you I’m gay. We had a very long conversation about it.”

  


“But you also said you slept with Erica!” Scott reminded him.

  


_Shit_ , Isaac thought. _True. So fucking stupid, though. Maybe I should agree, lie, for the best._

  


_Don’t you dare!_ Scott thought. “I’m tired of playing mind games with you, Isaac. Please. Just tell me who it is. I swear, even if it’s Stiles, or anyone, I won’t judge you.”

  


Isaac laughed, loudly and sharply enough that if there had been any animals in the nearby trees they would have scattered. Not a single thought entered his head before he spoke. “My secret, Scott, you want to know my secret? You want to know what I’ve been trying to hide from you? Who I can’t stop thinking about? Who I’ve never been able to stop thinking about, even before he was in my head all the fucking time?”

  


_In your head?_ Scott thought, slowly. _Me?_

It finally clicked in his head: the reason Isaac became panicked whenever he caught himself thinking about Scott, the reason he always wanted to spend time with him, the reason he preened and grinned so broadly when Scott laughed at his jokes. Even Stiles had said he’s never seen Isaac so happy, and Stiles… Stiles had said it was because he liked Scott. Stiles had been right.

  


“You talked to Stiles about me?” Isaac said, eyes wide, cheeks red with embarrassment. His thoughts flew through Scott’s head like lightning and then disappeared. Fragmented phrases of _ruined the best thing, hate myself,_ and _humiliation_ were the only evidence that Scott could read his mind at all. “What, did you—did you laugh about how pathetic I am? How I had to—had to take the best thing that’s ever happened to me and just, just fucking ruin it like I ruin everything?”

  


Scott was dumbstruck, caught in a tornado of emotions that he couldn’t escape from. He couldn’t even tell which thought were his and which were Isaac’s, the tensions were so high, and Scott was so confused—so utterly confused because he had never imagined a conversation like this, and he had never prepared for it to get so out of control.

  


After a moment of Scott’s shocked, confused silence and Isaac’s anxious heavy breathing, Scott opened his mouth. He should say something—just anything, anything to calm Isaac down…

  


But the other boy’s hands were already claws, and dark blond hair was gathering across his face. Having lost all control, he was transforming. They locked eyes for half a second.

  


Then Isaac, with a loud, pained howl, turned and ran into the trees.

  


His thoughts, still moving quickly so they were difficult to understand, revolved around nothing now but getting as far away as possible.

  


Scott stared at the place Isaac had disappeared to for a full minute. Then, with a loud groan, he slapped his palm against his face. This was the worst possible way that could have gone. Truly, he couldn’t have planned it any worse—not that he would have, ever, because he had actually been hoping to talk to Isaac at some point about their feelings. Or, well, Scott’s feelings, since those were the ones he had been sure of.

  


_Until now_ , he thought. If he weren’t so worried for Isaac, he may have been happy that Isaac returned his crush. He may have smiled at how Isaac had called him nice, “ _so fucking nice_.” Instead, he was nervous and uncomfortable with the way things had gone. He’d had the opportunity—he could have said something! He could have calmed Isaac down by reassuring him that he felt the same way. But instead he stood there, frozen, too shocked to say anything. And now Isaac was running through the woods, alone, and soon it would be nighttime. Shit.

  


But he wouldn’t go after Isaac right now. He had run away because he needed space, and Scott could give him that, at least, after screwing up the situation so royally. When Isaac calmed down, Scott would talk to him and everything would be sorted out. Maybe they would even give it a shot with each other, since they felt the same way.

  


Isaac seemed oblivious to Scott's thoughts about them ending up together, but Scott wasn't nervous. He smiled quietly. There was a solution to this. All he had to do was wait for Isaac to relax and hope they would be able to sort it out.

 

…Right?


	7. Chapter 7

Two hours later, Scott's confidence was gone.

 

He hadn't seen Isaac since he'd left the woods, and all his attempts to communicate with him failed. Isaac was still in the woods, Scott could surmise through the bond, but the rest of the details were murky. After giving over fully to his wolf side, Isaac's thoughts mostly centered around running, food, and what other animals could be in the woods.

 

Isaac paused in his running. He smelled something—another wolf.

 

Frantic now, after hours of worrying about Isaac and their friendship, Scott thought, _Isaac! Isaac, what is it? Is it a werewolf?_

 

Like usual, Isaac ignored him. His method since their fight seemed to be pretending he couldn't hear Scott's voice in his head, and pretending their conversation earlier hadn't happened. Right now he was worrying about what it was, too, and where he was in the woods, and how he would get back home.

 

 _Not home,_ he reminded himself _, Scott's house._

 

 _But it is your home!_ Scott thought desperately _. Please, Isaac, get out of there and come talk to me._

 

Isaac refused to leave. Desperate now and more than a little angry, Scott thought, _Fine. I guess I'll just have to come after you._ He was done with Isaac's self-pity. They were going to work through this, and whether they came out of it as friends or as something less—or more—Scott would not give up on Isaac now.

 

 _Something more?_ Isaac thought.

 

But it was Scott's turn to ignore him now. Hurriedly he went into Isaac's room, grabbed a shirt from the laundry basket, and took in Isaac's scent.

 

And, shit, he smelled really good. Wow. If Scott hadn't been on a mission, he may have just stayed there and smelled it all day.

 

As it was, he took the shirt with him and charged for the door.

 

******

 

It was easy enough to follow Isaac's trail in the outskirts of the forest; then there were so many scents—of Isaac, of someone familiar Scott couldn't place, and of another wolf. It would be impossible to figure out where Isaac had gone from here. The scents wound around each other, and Scott was beginning to get a headache from trying to decipher them.

 

He could smell himself, too, beside Isaac’s smell, and he couldn’t help but revel in the way their scents mingled. It was definitely a weird wolf thing, and he should probably try never to think that again… but he couldn’t help it. Anyway, Isaac hadn’t noticed the weirdness. He was too busy trying to find a way to escape without the other wolf realizing he was there.

 

 _Wait, what?!_ Scott froze in his sniffing. He was immersed in the forest now, and the treetops hid the dwindling sunlight. _Isaac, what’s happening? Are you okay? Who’s there?_

 

 _Huge wolf,_ Isaac thought back. _Scott—he just saw me. I think he’s going to come after me. I don’t know what to do, I don’t—shit, shit, he’s coming, fucking ugly, bald, huge fucking—_

 

 _Bald._ The word resonated in Scott’s mind. He knew this wolf. It was the same one who had nearly killed him, and the reason Isaac meshed their minds when he tried to save Scott.

 

This was very, very bad. He had to find Isaac _now,_ before he got hurt. If he couldn’t beat the wolf alone, there was no way Isaac would be able to. Scott had to hurry. He had to save Isaac.

 

Suddenly a howl broke through the silence.

 

 _Isaac!_ Scott would know that sound anywhere. It was accompanied by a crowd of pained, desperate thoughts from Isaac’s mind. Terrified, and trying not to make himself sick with worry, Scott took off on the heels of the howl. The sound made it easier to identify where Isaac was, and it helped that there was another howl a few minutes later—though this did nothing to aid Scott’s nerves. The thoughts pouring over the mind bond were a constant stream of pain and apology.

 

 _Scott, I’m sorry,_ Isaac thought, _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m such a bad friend, I ruined what we had, I couldn’t help my feelings, I tried, I swear I tried, and I’m sorry. I’m so—_

 

Then it was silent.

 

Unable to take the agony in his head, Scott knelt down on the forest floor and let out a long, sad howl.

 

Shockingly, there was an answering yowl. And it did not come from Isaac.

 

Scott sprang up from the ground and sprinted in the direction of the sound. It hadn’t been far away. And it definitely hadn’t been Isaac. Instead it had sounded rather like—

 

Boyd. There he was within the trees, in a clearing made small by the river that tore through it, and he was fighting the wolf from Scott’s nightmares. He wasn’t winning, but he hadn’t lost yet, either. He must have caught the wolf off guard, attacked when it was busy with Isaac, because that was the only way he could have even succeeded against it so far. He was pushing the wolf back more with every hit—though it could be said that the wolf was doing the same to him, and there was no way of predicting which of them would end up in the river first. Scott, now in full wolf form, ran beside Boyd and reached his claws into the flesh of the huge wolf.

 

On a normal day Scott would hesitate to go right for the kill. He would try to talk to the wolf—as he had mistakenly done already—or scare him away, but he wouldn’t really try to hurt another animal unless he really needed to—especially when he knew there was a human being somewhere in there.

 

But today was different, because this wolf had hurt Isaac. And he was hurting Boyd. And the longer they spent fighting him away, the less likely it was that Isaac, who was lying with his head motionless against a rock, would survive.

 

This thought sent Scott into overdrive, and Boyd seemed to sense it. He, too, increased his fighting-power, and together they pushed the wolf back into the river. The water was deep, and the wolf struggled to make it back to land; it was clearly difficult for him to keep his head above the water, though, and he wasn’t able to survive and swim at the same time. The end result was that the wolf was swept away, still breathing, fighting just to keep air in his lungs.

 

Scott didn’t bother waiting to see if he was gone before rushing over to where Isaac laid on the ground. He grabbed Isaac by the hand and squeezed it, murmuring, “come on, Isaac, come on, _please,_ please wake up, Isaac, _please,_ ” all the while working to take his pain away. But it became too intense for Scott to speak—Isaac’s pain was overwhelming his body. He was engulfed in it. He was swarmed with sharp aches and broken bones, and he fought it all for Isaac. Scott would save him if it meant he himself had to die. He would do anything to help him. As long as Isaac was alive, Scott would be okay. Isaac just had to make it. _Isaac, please…_

 

The pain was too crippling. Scott was going to pass out. Spots danced in front of his eyes, and he could feel himself falling.

 

“Scott!” Boyd called, and though he kept his hand glued to Isaac, Scott's head snapped up.

 

Boyd wasn't a wolf anymore. His features were human, and the sadness on his face went deep.

 

"The wolf is gone down the river. I didn’t see his head come up after a minute. I think he might have… ” Boyd’s voice trailed off and he swallowed heavily. More loudly, he said, "You don't look good. You should take him to Deaton's."

 

With one final _pull_ Scott gathered some of the remaining pain in Isaac's body. He hissed at the sensation. Boyd was right, Scott knew that. He needed to get Isaac to Deaton's place as soon as possible. Already Scott couldn't hear anything coming from Isaac's side of the bond, which must be a bad sign. If Isaac died now, before Scott could even reveal his shared feelings… it was unthinkable. They had to move fast.

 

But even as he stood to leave and hoisted Isaac over his shoulders, he noticed Boyd wasn't moving toward him.

 

"You aren't coming with us?"

 

Boyd shook his head. "No, I'm not. I don't want to be in your pack, and I don't really want to be your friend,” he admitted. “And I still hate Isaac."

 

Right before he sprinted out of the clearing, Boyd’s eyes met Scott’s. "I'm the one who got the wolf off of him. Make sure he knows that. Follow me out of the woods, I know the way."

 

Scott did follow Boyd back to Beacon Hills. He ran as fast as he could, and he could feel the power of the full moon surging through his body, allowing his to run faster and leap higher than he would otherwise be able to. At the edge of the forest Boyd ran in the opposite direction of where Scott was headed, and Scott made a mental note to thank him later.

 

But before he could do that he had to save Isaac. He _had_ to.

 

******

 

Deaton didn’t look surprised when Scott appeared at his office carrying Isaac’s limp body. Instead he looked slightly annoyed. The fact that it was getting into the late evening might have had something to do with it. Considering the circumstances, Scott didn’t feel sorry.

 

“He was attacked,” he said as soon as he saw Deaton. Gently he laid Isaac’s body on the examination table.

 

He was breathing, so that was a good sign. Right?

 

“It was the same wolf who got me,” Scott confessed. “Boyd and I fought him off. It seems like he’s gone for good. But Isaac…”

 

As Scott spoke Deaton bustled around the room, grabbing tools to clean and wrap the wounds. Scott wondered if this was what Isaac had seen when he’d brought Scott in here after the first attack. He wondered if this was how he had felt, so terrified and anxious.

 

 _Deaton will help him,_ Scott assured himself. _He will…_

 

It was odd, the absence of that snarky voice in his head. He was so used to Isaac commenting on his thoughts, and making his own comments on Isaac’s, that he actually felt alone without access to Isaac’s mind.

 

Looking at his pale body on the table, Scott felt even worse.

 

“He’ll be okay, Scott,” Deaton said a few minutes later. “Right now his body is under shock, and he has some broken bones. But he’ll live.”

 

Scott took a deep breath, moved a few steps back, and tried to stay out of Deaton’s way.

 

After what seemed like years, Deaton said. “Your powers to take away his pain helped him immensely.”

 

“How did you—” Scott began.

 

“I can tell, Scott. As I said, they were very helpful. Without that his body would have most likely gone into a more severe shock.”

 

Scott held his breath. That still didn’t sound good.

 

“As with you, he probably won’t wake up for at least a day. His body needs that rest. But you do understand that it is very likely that your mental bond will have disappeared when he wakes up.”

 

“Yeah, I was thinking it might.” Scott said, and sighed. “It’s weird. It wasn’t exactly easy, you know, to be so close to him all the time… but I think I’m going to miss it. If it really does go away now.”

 

“Can you hear his thoughts at this moment?”

 

Scott shook his head.

 

Deaton nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, that’s probably a sign. There’s still brain activity, so the fact that you can’t hear it could indicate the absence of the bond. Of course, it could also mean the mental activity is simply happening in other parts of his brain that you aren’t savvy to.” He was muttering more to himself now. “It’s really very interesting.”

 

“Yes,” Scott agreed without really paying attention anymore. He was so tired. His body hurt from running through the forest, getting smacked with low-hanging branches and tripping on rocks, and his back ached from carrying Isaac all that way.

 

“Sit down, Scott,” Deaton said, a hint of fondness in his voice. “Isaac will be okay. There isn’t much even I can do now, apart from check on him every few minutes. His body has already begun to heal him. And it won’t exactly be an easy night for you, either—you need to go somewhere where you can transform without endangering others. In the emotionally charged state you’re in, the wolf inside you may come out at any moment.”

 

“I don’t want to leave him.”

 

Deaton eyed him steadily. “Transforming right now would be good for you. But if you think you can control it, I trust you to stay here and not destroy anything. Let me know if he starts to wake up.”  


“I will,” Scott said, as he dragged a comfortable chair in from the vet’s waiting room and collapsed into it. He had no plans to transform now. Isaac was more important that the wolf in Scott.

 

Deaton quietly left the room.

 

Scott didn’t take his eyes away from Isaac. He decided he would watch him carefully, and if there was even a small sign that something was wrong, he would tell Deaton right away. It was his own fault, anyway; if Scott hadn’t left Isaac in the woods, this never would have happened. Or, better yet, if he hadn’t completely frozen and had instead told Isaac that he had feelings for him, too, this could have all been avoided.

 

Scott really was oblivious sometimes. Isaac’s thoughts had all been in Scott’s head, and he’d _still_ been able to hide his feelings from his. He had reached a whole new level of obtuseness. He wasn’t sure if he should laugh about it, or cry.

 

He spent a long time fighting his heavy eyelids before he finally succumbed to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Scott woke up later in a haze. It was so quiet in the room, and in his head, that for a moment he was worried. Maybe Isaac was asleep, and that’s why Scott couldn’t hear his thoughts?

 

Slowly, Scott opened his eyes. He was in Deaton’s office. A motionless Isaac was on the examination table.

 

Suddenly it all came back to him. Isaac’s weird behavior, his eventual confession, their awkward fight. Isaac, running into the woods, and Scott leaving him, thinking he would be okay. Boyd as the unexpected hero. And the pain, the immense pain Scott had pulled from Isaac’s body, which still wasn’t enough to wake him up.

 

Scott walked to the table and watched Isaac’s slowly rising chest. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep for, but he could see a gentle morning sun was rising outside the window. It had been hours, then, since they'd been in the woods; probably at least ten. Isaac was already starting to look better. There was color back in his cheeks—not their usual blushing pink, but not a deathly pallid, either.

 

Slowly, Scott raised his hand and placed it over Isaac’s arm. He gripped it lightly and began to take the other boy’s pain away. A sense of relief washed over him when the pain came and it was much less than last night’s. He truly was healing, then. Scott exhaled a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding.

 

He remembered that when he had first woken up from his mini-coma, and how thirsty he’d been. He would have to ask Deaton if there was a way he could give Isaac extra water while he was still under, so he didn’t wake up with that discomfort. Deaton had him hooked up to some human IVs—which Scott had gotten his mother to steal from the hospital for occasions exactly like this. He’d given them to Deaton a few months back as a sort of thanks-for-saving-our-lives, I’m-sure-you’ll-be-doing-more-of-it late Christmas present.

 

Scott smiled at his own bad joke, and, when he remembered there was no extra voice in his head to tease him, felt a pang of pain unrelated to his hand on Isaac. It was stupid, he knew, but if their mental bond really did disappear when Isaac woke up, Scott would be kind of disappointed.

 

Almost as if Isaac could hear Scott thinking about him, his finger twitched. Scott’s heartbeat tripled, as he called Deaton into the room.

 

“His finger moved!” Scott reported happily, carefully watching Isaac for any other movement.

 

Gently, Deaton pushed Scott aside and checked Isaac's vitals. After a few minutes of poking and prodding him with his fingers and stethoscope, Isaac moved again. Scott's nearly gasped as Isaac's arm twitched, then reached up slowly to touch his head.

 

"Wha...?" Isaac mumbled, wincing in pain. "My head..."

 

"Isaac," Deaton said loudly, "Can you hear me?"

 

"Ouch," Isaac hissed, as his finger poked a spot on the side of his face. "Yes, I can... wha hap...pened?"

 

"There was an accident. You hit your head."

 

"You got into a fight," Scott supplied, eager to engage him in conversation now that he could again. Now that he was moving and talking and living and breathing—Scott couldn’t take his eyes off him.

 

"Fight?" Isaac asked. He opened his eyes and blinked at the light of the room.

 

"Yes," Deaton answered him. "Not unlike the one Scott got into last week. Scott and Boyd fought it off and managed to get you out of there before too long. There shouldn't be any lasting effects, but I'm going to need you to stay here for a few more hours to ensure that everything is going smoothly."

 

Isaac didn’t say anything back; he was staring at Scott with a look of deep concentration on his face. He looked confused. "Scott?"

 

"Yeah?" Scott whispered.

 

"Can't hear you... in my head." Isaac looked frantic now.

 

Scott didn’t know what to say. Luckily, Deaton stepped in rescue him. "Your mental bond disappeared after Scott saved you the same way you saved him. The universe has been balanced."

 

"But I wanted to tell you," Isaac said. Stopped. Tried to sit up and found it was too difficult; his body ached and the room spun before him.

 

Deaton cleared his throat. "I have to get back to my office. If you feel odd in a way unconnected to the injuries you sustained, it may be because you didn’t transform last night. Stay here until you feel well enough to move, and as soon as you feel up to it, give over to your wolf side. It isn't good for a werewolf as young as you to ignore the full moon." With that, he left the examination room.

 

Isaac nodded slowly, putting a hand to his neck. He rubbed it nervously. Scott couldn't tell what he hurt from more: his aching body or the awkwardness of the situation.

 

"You know," Isaac said after a while, "it's... probably a bad sign... I woke up craving a coke."

 

Scott cracked a smile. Leave it to Isaac to have his first real sentence after waking up from a state of comatose be about soda.

 

"I can get you one," Scott volunteered.

 

"No, it's... no. Stay. I'll be okay… leave in... maybe a few hours."

 

"Okay," Scott said, resuming his seat. After a moment he said, quickly, "Do you want to talk—"

 

"Not right now."

 

"Right," Scott muttered. "Okay. But we have to talk about—" he saw the anguish in Isaac's eyes and couldn't bring himself to say it just yet— "what happened with the werewolf. I want to tell you about how Boyd and I kicked ass."

 

A smile broke out across Isaac's lips. "I'm all ears," he said, "and not just because I don't have a choice."

 

"Good," Scott said. He began his story where he'd entered the woods to find Isaac, purposefully leaving out all the parts that would increase the awkwardness of the situation. If he dragged the tale out a little longer than necessary because he loved the feel of those blue eyes on him, well, that was just fine with both of them.

 

******

 

“Are you sure you’re ready to go home?” Scott asked for the fourth time as Isaac stretched languidly beside him. Scott was very careful not to stare at the sliver of skin and happy trail that were revealed when the bottom of the other boy’s shirt lifted up.

 

For a split second Scott worried Isaac would know what he was thinking. They were both still getting used to being without the mental bond; that was something they had discussed in length over the past two-and-a-half hours while Isaac was building up the strength to stand up. They talked about everything, really, from the bond to the fight with the bald wolf; Scott told Isaac all about Boyd and how he’d saved his life, and probably Scott’s life, too.

 

They talked about everything, that is, except the scarlet red elephant in the room. Incidentally, it was the same color Isaac’s cheeks flushed whenever their conversation came even close to their discussion in the woods. Scott pretended not to notice.

 

But now, as they waited for Stiles to get out of school and come pick them up outside Deaton’s office, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stop himself from saying something about it. Already he felt anxious, and it was getting to a point where he was sure he was going to blurt something out.

 

When Stiles pulled up to the vet’s office, the first thing he did was shake his head.

 

“I am not a taxi service,” he informed them through the open window, even as he unlocked the doors and gestured for them to get inside the car. “I’m only here because I can’t resist those puppy-dog faces. And don’t try to pretend you weren’t puppy-dogging me through the phone, I could feel it.”

 

“He was,” Isaac said as he slid into the back seat. “I saw it.”

 

Stiles glanced at both of them before returning his gaze to the road. “So… exactly what put you in the hospital? And spare me the details if they’re gross, okay, I don’t need to hear about the stuff you do in the privacy of your own home.”

 

“Don’t be weird, Stiles,” Scott muttered, embarrassed. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”

 

After Stiles adamantly insisted that, yes, he did want to hear the story, please, Jesus, he’d only been worried sick all day wondering why they weren’t in school, the rest of the car ride was spent reliving last night for what felt to Scott like the millionth time. By the time they arrived at Scott’s house, he was tired of talking about the past.

 

Actually, he was tired of just about everything. All he wanted to do was take a nap. And not in one of Deaton’s uncomfortable chairs, either.

 

“I need to crash,” Scott told Isaac, who had, as soon as they got inside, headed for the kitchen. “Are you going to be okay if I leave you alone? Are you still in pain?”

 

“Um… no. You can go,” Isaac said. His heart was beating faster than it should be, considering he hadn’t had any coke in at least twenty-four hours, and usually it settled down after the caffeine rush.

 

Isaac didn’t say anything else, though, so, relieved that he seemed to be feeling better, Scott climbed the stairs toward his bedroom.

 

He had already stripped down to his boxers and undershirt when Isaac knocked on the door to his room; before Scott could answer, he slipped inside the door.

 

“We need to talk,” he said.

 

“I… all right,” Scott muttered, very much aware of how little clothing he was wearing. Isaac kept his eyes decidedly above Scott’s shoulders. “About?”

 

“You know what about. About what I said in the woods. About my feelings and—us. If I should continue living here. Things like that.”

 

After being in his head for so long, Scott could tell when Isaac was forcing his insecurities away by acting tough. Right now he was putting on a façade of strength. Scott didn’t need a mental bond to tell him that.

 

“Isaac,” Scott began. “I wanted to tell you—“

 

“Don’t spare my feelings, okay?” Isaac interrupted. “Just tell me what you want. If you want me to leave, or… whatever.”

 

Scott was freezing up again—he could feel it. Oh, why is he so bad at talking to boys? He was better at this when it was Allison, and he knew what he was doing, but with Isaac—what did he say? That he was gay? That he was maybe a little gay but only for Isaac? If the silence went on any longer, he knew Isaac would bolt from the room.

 

“You,” Scott said, and cleared his throat. He stepped closer to Isaac and the whole room seemed to shrink with the space between them.

 

“Me what?” Isaac asked.

 

“You, I—you asked what I wanted. It’s. I want you. I tried telling you, in the woods, but it’s… this is new, and I just…” Scott choked laughing; he couldn’t help it. He was ruining this moment, and Isaac’s face was giving nothing away. “I’m not good at this,” Scott confessed.

 

“Articulation?” Isaac whispered, licking his lips. “Because I’ve known for a while you aren’t very good at that.”

 

“No,” Scott said, laughing uneasily again. He took another step closer. “It’s... here.”

 

Close enough to touch Isaac now, Scott reached for his hand. It was sweating with nerves and it felt like a cure to all of Scott’s uncertainty. The skin-on-skin contact took every tired cell in Scott’s body and shocked it awake.

 

Before the thought could fully form in his head, Scott was leaning toward Isaac to kiss him.

 

Isaac, who seemed frozen in place, did nothing but watch with wide eyes as Scott came closer. When their lips touched it was like something snapped inside him; his arms reached down to wind around Scott and—ever so quietly—he groaned, as if he’d been waiting for this.

 

As if he’d been thinking about it.

 

The thought alone was enough to set Scott’s body on fire, and it was insane—really, it was, because he didn’t even know what to do with another boy—but he needed Isaac so much closer.

 

This was difficult, however, as they were already molded against each other, so close Scott could feel every muscle under Isaac’s shirt ripple. A shiver went down his spine as Isaac’s hand came up under his shirt. When Isaac’s mouth moved to Scott’s neck, he thought he would explode from desire.

 

A rough tongue licked its way down Scott’s collarbone, and the resulting jolt to his crotch made his entire body spasm. His cock, which was only growing harder, brushed against Isaac’s leg. It felt amazing, and the thought of himself against those strong thighs was electrifying, but he couldn’t take it that far right now.

 

“Oh,” Scott gasped, taking a step back. “I need to... put pants on. And breathe.”

 

Isaac pretended to pout. Despite this he looked happier than Scott had ever seen him; he glowed, as if he’d never been hurt before.

 

“I’ll, um, wait for you in the hallway?” He suggested.

 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Scott admitted. “Otherwise I might jump you right here.”

 

Halfway to the door, Isaac turned around and headed back towards Scott.

 

Laughing, Scott said, “Go grab a soda and meet me on the sofa, okay?”

 

“Yeah. But just so you know, you don’t have to put pants on if you don’t want to.”

 

Scott pushed Isaac out of the room and grabbed a pair of sweats off the floor. He couldn’t wrap his mind around what was happening, or when it had started, or where it would go, but he did know that he’d never felt as alive as he did in those moments with Isaac just now. He’d never felt so himself, like he just found a limb he never knew existed.

 

“Scott!” Isaac’s voice called from downstairs. “Do I have to come get you?”

 

Scott ran down the stairs as fast as he could. Isaac was on the couch, holding his coke and flipping through the channels. As delicately as he could, Scott tip-toed through the room and, when he was right behind Isaac, leaped out from behind the couch. Isaac yelled and jumped in surprise, his drink spilling all over his front.

 

“Asshole,” Isaac said grumpily, as he tried in vain to clean the soda off of himself using his tongue.

 

“Am I?” Scott asked. He sat beside Isaac on the couch and lent his own tongue to the cleaning process. Isaac, startled, watched greedily as Scott licked all the remaining coke off his fingers.

 

“No, I guess not,” Isaac amended. He kissed Scott’s mouth. “You taste like coke. I love coke.”

 

He captured Scott’s lips with his own again, and Scott could feel Isaac’s smile on his. And Isaac’s hands on his thighs.

 

“This is nice,” Scott said quietly. After a long moment of comfortable silence, with only the light hum of the television in the background, he decided to tell Isaac more of the truth. “I knew I liked you before we had that talk in the woods. It wasn’t Allison I was talking to Stiles about, it was you.”

 

Isaac rested his head on Scott’s shoulder. “Really?”

 

“Yes. But I didn’t know what to do, because—I’ve never been with a guy before.”

 

“So then,” Isaac asked, “why me?”

 

Scott shook his head. He didn’t like that question—it sounded like Isaac was surprised, or he didn’t understand why Scott would like him. “Because you’re sarcastic, and you’re funny, and you’re special.”

 

Smiling, Isaac bit him lightly on the arm. “I like that response.”

 

“I like you.” Scott said, a broad grin on his face.

 

“Mmm,” Isaac murmured, eyes heavy with desire. “You should prove it.”

 

“Boys?” Melissa McCall’s shocked voice said from the doorframe of the room.

 

They sprang apart with a muffled “shit,” limbs tumbling over each other in their rushed attempt to separate.

 

“What is going on here?” Melissa demanded, eyes darting between their faces and the place their ankles were still entwined on the coffee table. Louder this time, she asked, “What is going on here?!”

 

The boys exchanged guilty glances. If their bond were still in place, they would be panicking together. As if was, Isaac’s desperate look said a lot.

 

Most prominently it said, go tell your mom because I’m not saying anything.

 

“Um, mom,” Scott said, his eyes still on Isaac on he stood. “We should talk.”

 

He led her to the kitchen and, when she walked in behind him, gestured to the chairs. She was going to need to sit down, he thought—and he wasn’t exactly worried she wouldn’t be accepting of his change of teams, because if his mom could handle her only son turning out to be a werewolf, dating another boy shouldn't really be a problem for her. He was a bit concerned, however, about that boy being Isaac; remembering how badly she'd reacted when she realized he was having sex with Allison, he could only assume she was highly alert for any nefarious hormone-controlled episodes happening in her home.

 

He was right.

 

"You two are together?" Melissa asked, incredulous. "Since when, when he moved in? When were you planning to tell me?"

 

"Not since then," Scott said awkwardly. "Since today, actually… we just talked about it.”

 

His mother raised her eyebrows. “You were awfully close to be talking, Scott.”

 

Scott blushed. “We did before.”

 

With a sigh, Melissa ran a hand through her hair. Finally, she said, “Look, you know I don’t care that it’s Isaac. I love that kid. But if he’s going to continue to live here with you two together, we’re going to have to establish some new rules.”

 

She seemed at a loss for what to say next. Apparently it was difficult to stop a relationship from progressing if the two people in it shared a home already.

 

“First, if you’re in each other’s bedrooms the doors need to be kept open.” She frowned. “And just be safe when I’m at work, okay? I know I can’t always control you. I just… Scott, have you always been interested in men?”

 

Oh. There it was. Scott was starting to think she would gloss over it.

 

“No,” he said honestly. “I still don’t think know if I am interested in men.”

 

Melissa blinked at him.

 

“I think it’s just Isaac,” Scott explained. He was surprised when his mother’s face softened.

 

“Oh, Scott,” She said quietly, and her arms came up to envelope him in a hug. “What am I going to do with you?”

 

Scott hugged her back, the soft lilac scent of her hair sending waves of calm through him. “I love you, mom,” he whispered.

 

“I love you, too,” she said as their hug broke apart. “But you are a hell of a lot of work, Scott. Really. You live in the same house.”

 

“I know,” Scott said, but he was smiling.

 

His mom gestured her head toward the door. “Go on, get back out to him.”

 

Despite himself, Scott was relieved. That could have gone much worse than it had, and actually, he was thrilled he’d come out to his mom. He was so proud of the person Isaac was, and he was proud of himself for getting to say Isaac was such a big part of his life. Scott wanted to tell all his friends, wanted to shout it from the rooftops so everyone would know; he was elated.

 

“That went well,” Isaac said when Scott walked back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch.

 

“It did,” Scott agreed happily. “You heard everything she said, right?”

 

Isaac nodded. “Super werewolf hearing was fully active,” he said. “I can’t believe she said she loves me.”

 

“Of course she does,” Scott murmured, stroking the side of Isaac’s face. “Didn’t you know that?” 

 

Isaac shrugged. “I guess. I mean, she’s letting me live here, and eat her food, and stuff.”

 

“It’s more than that and you know it.”

 

“Well, whatever,” Isaac said; his face was starting to turn pink again. “I heard all the other things she said, too.”

 

“Good,” Scott said. “So you know all about keeping the door open.”

 

“Yes. We have to keep the door open when she’s home.” He nuzzled his head into Scott’s neck and lightly nipped his ear. “Good thing she’s at work so much.”

 

Scott laughed and tackled him further onto the couch so that he could drape his body over Isaac’s. “You’re evil,” Scott informed him.

 

“Maybe,” Isaac muttered. “What are you going to do about it?”

 

“Kiss it out of you,” Scott whispered, and their lips met. Considering how quickly Isaac’s hand found its way to Scott’s ass, it seemed Scott’s method didn’t exactly work.

 

******

 

When Scott went to Stiles’s house the next day, it was the first time he was truly, completely alone in over a week. He was still getting use to not needing to censor his thoughts, and not having that witty voice in the front of his mind.

 

Most of his excitement over this came from the fact that he could now freely talk about Isaac without having to worry about the subject of his conversations eavesdropping. Isaac had decided he didn’t want to intrude on Scott and Stiles’s friendship completely—and he definitely wanted to stay in Stiles’s favor now that he and Scott were officially dating (which they’d decided last night after staying up late to talk in Scott’s room)—so he’d stayed home.

 

Which was probably good, because the first thing Scott did when he saw Stiles was engulf him in a squeezing hug and call him a genius, and if Isaac had been there he would have laughed at them.

 

“I am a genius,” Stiles agreed. “What genius thing did I do this time? Is it the new haircut? Because I know it’s working for me.”

 

“Explain the inner workings of my mind to me,” Scott said. He pulled down the collar of his shirt. “Look!”

 

Stiles looked at him with disgust. “Ugh, gross. Don’t show me your hickies, man. That’s just weird.”

 

“I’m trying to show you what happened with me and Isaac!” Scott explained happily.

 

“Tell, don’t show,” Stiles advised.

 

Bouncing on his toes with excitement, Scott proceeded to tell him everything that had happened between him and Isaac after Stiles had dropped them off at Scott’s house the previous day. Well, not everything—he left out some of the more intimate details. By the end of the story, though, Stiles looked happy for Scott, and Scott assured him he could never have figured out what to do without Stiles’s help. 

 

Stiles, for his part, looked smugly satisfied.

 

“I am usually right about things,” he said proudly.

 

“Not everything,” Scott said. “But all the important stuff—yeah. You’re always right about that.”

 

******

 

A week later Scott got Boyd’s number off someone in school and texted him; tried to convince him to meet up so he and Isaac could thank him, at least. Buy him lunch and get him to open up to them, at most. Not that either Scott nor Isaac really thought Boyd would ever open up to them—but it was difficult to see him in school every day, sitting alone at lunch as if it were a year back, before the bite had brought them all together and Boyd was still invisible.

 

He did agree to have lunch with them, and he listened to them, and he told them he was leaving Beacon Hills for good. And they thanked him, and they thanked him again, and they apologized for everything that happened to him here. Even the things that had been Derek’s, the alpha pack’s, or fate’s fault. In the end it was probably good for Boyd to leave Beacon Hills; too many memories of his despair haunted the town.

 

So they all said good-bye, and he promised he would call them in the future if that meant they would stop bugging him about it, and he left. He and his family got out of town safely, and his new life became a much better one.

 

******

 

Likewise, life improved for Isaac. There was an almost tangible difference between how he held himself now and how he did before, as if now that the weight of his great secret was finally off his shoulders he could breathe again.

 

He and Scott weren’t inseparable; they spent time apart when they needed to. When Isaac needed to be alone, to feed his introversion, Scott let him be. They were careful to not spent too much time together, because Scott didn’t want to ignore Stiles the way he had when he’d been with Allison, but also because, since they already lived together the first day they started dating, it would be easy to move too fast. So they saw each other every morning and night, and talked every day, and spent hours together throughout the week, stealing kisses when Melissa was home and shutting themselves in Scott’s bedroom when she wasn’t. Isaac was delighted to teach him everything he knew about sex between men. Scott was glad to note that he was happy to learn.

 

They still ran together, the same way they had when they’d had the mental bond. The only thing that changed, really, was their teamwork during lacrosse. Though there was no magic binding their minds, Scott could feel their connection growing every day. Except now when they sat together on the sofa to watch television, or play video games, or do homework—Isaac with a coke in hand and Scott an array of food before him—Scott couldn’t know everything Isaac was thinking. He couldn’t know if he liked the snacks Scott had brought or if he was anxious about something.

 

The only thoughts Scott knew were the ones Isaac told him. This required trust and honestly, and, really, Scott liked it better that way.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to leave kudos/comments!


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